


The Broken Ones

by bansheequeen (queenbanshee), xtremeroswellian



Series: Don't Let Me Go [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: And shake our fists at Jeff Davis a LOT, Angst, Banshee Lydia Martin, Basically we pick and choose, F/M, Kinda canon compliant, Kinda not, Massive amounts of angst, Multi, Post Nogitsune, Red String of Fate, Set post "The Benefactor", There's Stalia but Stydia is endgame, They are both broken, We miss Allison a lot, Will be Joss'd at some point
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 15:10:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 35,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1987548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenbanshee/pseuds/bansheequeen, https://archiveofourown.org/users/xtremeroswellian/pseuds/xtremeroswellian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following the events of The Benefactor, Stiles and Lydia work together to figure out the secrets of her family, discover who is behind the hitlist, and try to put together the broken pieces of each other's lives a little at a time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The cliche ‘long night’ didn’t even begin to cover what last night had been. The freshmen had started to clear out around two, only for one of them to find a body outside and for the police circus to start. Most of them just vanished, luckily, too afraid of getting caught drinking. And it wasn’t until after Stiles managed to get his dad to come down that the other cops backed off. 

After a quick conversation with the pack and updating them what she had found out, Lydia finally managed to get them to leave, too. After assuring them that she’d just ‘hire someone to do the clean up’ and letting them know it wasn’t going to be a problem. 

Thankfully, due to the lack of hard liquor and wolfsbane-spiked punch, things hadn’t gotten _too_ wild. It was going to be a lot of work, but nothing she couldn’t handle within the next couple of days. Because Lydia planned on spending the entire weekend there. The house had to be spotless again. No matter what kind of work it required. She had her laptop, she was going to google tricks if she needed to. She wasn’t going to let her mom down. She couldn’t. She knew how important this was for the two of them. 

She had started with picking up the trash, four bags later, she was done. It was amazing how people managed to get things all over the house when she hadn’t even _had_ anything to offer to begin with. She had found two more bottles of wine. _Expensive_ bottles and had nearly screamed in anger. But she didn’t need Scott rushing back to see what was going on. She was _hoping_ that once everyone was up, they’d forget about her and just focus on researching who might be behind that list instead. Right then, she’d just rather be alone. 

A couple of hours later, when she had _most_ of the house under control, she made her way upstairs with all the cleaning products she could get her hands on and club soda. She knew she was supposed to soak it up and that in her panic, she had made it worse. And then of course going in her trance meant the stain had dried and she was going to need another credit card to pay for this. 

She pushed the door open and let it slide closed without paying attention to. At the loud noise, she even jumped a little because as soon as she was in there she couldn’t _not_ remember what she had heard earlier. 

Her eyes teared up and she glanced over at the wall. Everything was silent now, but in her head, she could still clearly remember them calling her best friend’s name. 

Lydia forced herself to take a deep breath and brushed the tears away, then made her way over to where the stain was on the carpet and set the bucket and products she was carrying down before keeling next to it. 

She was trying to keep it together _so hard_ , it was draining her. She was so embarrassed of her meltdown in front of a random freshman the previous night, but mostly, she was trying to figure out how she was going to keep up appearances for the pack. Because they didn’t know what was going on. They didn’t know half of it, at least, and they couldn’t know. They had their own issues to deal with. 

And they looked like they were moving on. 

Scott actually looked happy now that he and Kira had figured things out. And Stiles-- well, she hadn’t really asked him much about how things were going with Malia, but she had offered her house if he wanted to get away from her and he hadn’t really taken her up on it since that first night, so Lydia figured they’d talked and had worked something out, too. 

She missed them. The boys. But at the same time, the less time she spent around them, the less energy she had to spend on pretending. 

Most of all, she missed Allison. 

Stiles sat in his jeep outside the lakehouse for nearly twenty minutes before he finally climbed out of the driver’s seat, sliding his keys into his pocket. He was tired, both from the rather draining full moon he’d spent with Malia, and also from the realization that once again they were up against something huge and terrifying. Maybe not Nogitsune terrifying, but life-threatening terrifying, and granted, _his_ life wasn’t on the line, but that was actually worse. No, instead, the lives of every person he cared about sans his dad, was in danger.

A supernatural hit list, and they had no idea who’d compiled it, how they knew about the people who were _on_ said list, or when the killers were going to strike next. 

Needless to say, he wasn’t comforted in any way, shape or form. And he’d gone to Lydia’s earlier that morning to check in with her, but her mom had said she was staying at the lake house for the weekend, and Stiles was more than a little confused. As far as he knew, she’d gone home after assuring the rest of the pack that she was going to hire someone to clean up the mess the impromptu party had left behind. But she hadn’t gone home. Or if she had, she’d come back for whatever reason. And he couldn’t help but worry that was dangerous because she was _on_ that damned list, and being off alone without even telling anyone else where she was just seemed like a really bad idea.

Raking a hand through his hair, he made his way up to the front door and knocked, chewing his thumbnail as he waited anxiously.

For a second, Lydia paused. She _felt_ something. A presence that she’d grown used to feeling. Whenever someone from the pack was close, she felt them now. It was almost like a reassurance that they were still there, still alive, still around. She brushed the tears she hadn’t even realized were falling from her face and dropped the cloth to the bucket as she turned to look at the blank wall. She knew the room was soundproof and that she wasn’t going to hear normal sounds, but she might hear warnings if there were any. 

And considering her name _had_ been on that list, she rather focus on those instead. Especially if she was wrong about someone from the _pack_ being there. If there was anyone there at all.

He stood at the door for a couple of minutes before knocking again, louder this time, heart beginning to pick up speed. What if the assassins had already gotten to her? What if she was inside, hurt, or dead? Fear shot through him and he tried the door handle but it didn’t turn. Locked. _Shit._

He moved over to the nearest window and tugged gently, relief washing over him momentarily when it slid upward. He quickly climbed in, and then locked it behind him. “Lydia?” He called, glancing around the dark house. He grimaced as he stepped on someone’s discarded shoes. Definitely not Lydia’s. Some freshman’s, no doubt. He moved farther into the house. “Lydia! Are you here?” 

Her car had been in the driveway. Jesus, why had he sat in the jeep so long instead of coming inside? Panic gripped him as he moved toward the stairs, shouting her name and when he got no response, he ran down them, looking around the basement only to find it empty. She had to be there, somewhere. His face was pale as he made his way back up to the first floor, and moved quickly toward the stairs that led to the second floor. 

“Lydia!” His shoes pounded against the carpeted stairs as he made his way up them, vividly remembering the night of the winter formal. The night he’d been too late to get to her before Peter had. The night she’d almost died. “ _Lydia!”_

When she heard absolutely nothing, Lydia stood up slowly, padding toward the door slowly. Between her bare feet and the carpet, she was making no sound at all. Not that it mattered much. Not until she opened the door, anyway. And when she reached it, she hesitated. Because she was suddenly feeling anxiety. It wasn’t strong, but it was there. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what was causing it. 

So she turned toward the wall, stared at it for a moment longer but when she got nothing, she finally opened the door. Carefully, slowly, completely silently. 

And then she heard loud footsteps on the stairs, someone who was running up and turned back toward the room quickly. She was just about to close the door back up, lock herself up there when she heard him calling her name. And she quickly figured out where the panic and anxiety she was feeling was coming from. 

“Stiles?” She called back, stepping out into the hallway once more.

Stiles had never been so glad to see someone in his life as he was at that moment. He didn’t hesitate before pulling her into a tight hug, burying his face and a hand in her hair. “Don’t _do_ that to me,” he mumbled, heart still pounding frantically in his chest even as he drew in a shuddering breath. 

He’d been so afraid he was going to find her _dead_ that he was having a hard time calming his pulse and his anxiety even though he knew she was there, and safe, and definitely not dead. 

The hug certainly caught her by surprise but she wrapped her arms around him automatically. When his arms tightened around her, her face crumbled just for a second before she took a deep breath and willed herself not to fall apart. Especially not in front of Stiles of all people. She could feel how fast his heart was beating against her chest and she rubbed a hand over his back. Gently because she didn’t know if he was hurt or not, after all. 

“I’m okay,” she whispered to him, quickly figuring out that she hadn’t been able to _hear_ him and he must have been looking for her for a few minutes now. Of course he was freaked out. It didn’t take much to terrify them these days. 

He swallowed heavily, keeping his eyes shut and not letting her go for another long moment. Then he nodded slowly before pulling away, forcing himself to take a deep breath. All the color had drained from his face and he rubbed a hand over his cheek. “I knocked, but you didn’t answer and I thought…” He shook his head. He didn’t need to elaborate. It was pretty obvious she knew what he’d thought by her reaction. 

She pursed her lips together and nodded, then reached for his arm and pulled him into the room she’d been in, leading him toward the computer chair so he could sit down. “I didn’t hear you,” she said sincerely, trying to ignore the tightness in her chest. It wasn’t until the two of them were alone that she really realized just how much she missed being around him. Especially when he was obviously so worried about her. But of course he’d be, just like any of them would be about anyone else in the pack. 

“This room is soundproof, I had the door closed,” she explained once she pulled him to sit down.

He followed her wordlessly into the room, glancing around curiously at the mention of the room being soundproof. He’d never been in a soundproof room before, and there was only about one reason he could think that someone would have one and it made him grimace. Until something dawned on him and he looked at her sideways. “Lydia, this was your grandma’s house, right?” 

Once she made sure he was sitting down, she pulled her hands away from his arm and nodded at his question, but looked away almost instantly. “Yeah,” she said. Her grandmother’s house that had been in the family for generations and it wasn’t going to be theirs much longer. 

He rose to his feet, turning so he was facing her where she stood. “And...why would she need a soundproof room?” he asked quietly, arching his eyebrows. 

Lydia cocked her head as she turned to face him again. Because between his tone and the way he worded the question, she knew him well enough to know Stiles was thinking about something. “I don’t know. This was just her study, I didn’t come in here a lot when I was little,” she admitted, glancing over at the record player then back at Stiles for a second. 

“Tell me what you hear,” she said before turning it on.

Stiles cocked his head to the side, watching as she moved across the room and turning on an actual record player. He waited, but didn’t hear anything except what sounded like static to him. He shook his head. “Just...sounds like white noise, Lyds,” he admitted, biting his lower lip. “But that’s not what you hear, is it?” 

She took a deep breath and carefully turned it off, before shaking her head and taking a moment before facing him again. “I don’t hear anything right now, but earlier--” she shook her head, crossing her arms across her chest as she glanced at him. Once more, remembering the voices spelling her best friend’s name.

“Earlier what?” he asked quietly, crossing the room so he was standing right in front of her, eyes troubled. He knew she’d found the key to decrypt the creepy math notes she’d written out. He wondered if this was how. 

“They were whispering,” she said, looking at him for a moment longer then taking a deep breath as she turned to face the blank wall. “I could see the outline of their faces, as if they were trapped in the wall. And their mouths were moving. I could read their lips, so it was easier to decipher what they were telling me.” She still felt crazy saying things like this, but there was no one better than Stiles when it came to helping her understand the supernatural.

Stiles nodded slowly at her words, gaze traveling to the blank wall that...was really very blank and kind of unsettling to look at. It reminded him of the room Brunski’s lackeys had dragged him into at Eichen House before drugging him into unconsciousness and Stiles suppressed a shudder, swallowing hard. Her seeing the outlines of faces was definitely new as far as he was aware, but he believed her. He always believed her. “What were they telling you?” he asked, shifting his gaze back to her face. 

“They were spelling out the keyword,” she whispered, this time she kept her eyes away from him as she spoke. Because she knew he wasn’t going to stop asking her until she offered the information he was looking for. And she knew it was important for the rest of the pack to know what the word had been. It was one of the few clues they had, after all. “They were spelling out _Allison_ ,” she said finally, turning to glance at him.

All the air left his lungs in a rush at the unexpected admission. He opened his mouth to speak before closing it again, heart beginning to beat a little faster in his chest. “Oh,” he managed to whisper a second later.

She gave him a moment to process the information then shook her head turning to face him. They didn’t talk about it. They didn’t talk about her. It hurt too much and there was always something else happening. Something else that was easier to focus on than on how much they were still missing her. “Stiles, what are you doing here? I thought you and the others were gonna be working on this list.” 

Stiles slowly moved and sat back down in the computer chair at the desk, twisting his fingers together and looking down at the floor. “Scott and Kira are on it,” he explained with a slight shrug. “My dad’s at the station trying to figure out how to handle Peter ripping out that…” He wasn’t sure what to call the thing that had tried to kill Peter, actually. “...ripping out a heart.” 

Lydia held her breath at that then nodded. She heard about Derek and the Sheriff going after the mouth-less guy and Peter just... being Peter about it briefly the previous night. If Peter knew anything about this guy, though, it wouldn’t hurt for them to find out what he knew. He had been the one to kill Sean, after all. And Sean’s name had been on the list. 

“I just...I don’t know. I wanted to see you. I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he confessed. He looked down at his hands, exhaling slowly. “Your mom told me you were here. That you were spending the weekend here.” He glanced up at her, worried. “By yourself.” 

She held her breath at that and stared at him for a moment before shaking her head. “She doesn’t know I’m by myself,” Lydia told him, knowing that was his assumption. Surely her mom figured she was here with her newest boytoy. It never bothered her anyway. But the truth was, Lydia wasn’t really comfortable with getting close to anyone at the moment. No matter how casual it was. 

“No. She didn’t specify that you were by yourself.” He leveled his gaze on her. “I just...figured.” He knew she wasn’t seeing anyone, or even really flirting with anyone these days. He still paid attention. He’d just gotten more subtle about it. 

“The house was a mess, I figured I’d pick some of it up.” It wasn’t a lie, so much. It was just that she had no choice in the matter. And at least there, she wasn’t going to have to pretend. At least that had been the plan before Stiles showed up. 

He watched her intently. “Yeah it’s...definitely kind of wrecked.” He grimaced. “So since I’m already here anyway, I’ll help you.” 

Lydia looked at him again for a moment then down at the carpet. “Do you know any tricks to remove stains?” she asked quietly. She didn’t really want him to stay, but mostly, she didn’t want him to go. 

A corner of his mouth turned up at her question and he rose to his feet, moving and draping an arm around her shoulders. “Not off the top of my head, but I did bring my laptop. We can research.” 

The familiarity of the gesture, along with his suggestion made her chest tight once more, but she pursed her lips into a smile anyway. Because she was going to hold on to pretending until she couldn’t anymore. And she believed she was doing it for his own sake. “Yeah, I did some research myself, but--” she glanced down at the carpet. The redness was lighter, but not completely gone.

Stiles followed her gaze to the stain on the carpet. “You know who might have a solution?” 

Lydia shook her head and glanced up at him curiously.

“Melissa McCall,” he told her with a small smile. “I’m sure she probably does, actually. I mean the amount of times that Scott or I spilled Kool-Aid on carpet in that house is kind of ridiculous. And she’s never had it replaced, so there must be some kind of solution we don’t know about.” 

“Oh, right. Yeah, I bet she’s had messes much worse than this to clean up after,” she agreed, smiling a little more sincerely this time. At least her mom and Melissa had never spoken to each other before as far as Lydia knew.

He smiled back at her a little brighter when she smiled at him. He squeezed her shoulders affectionately. “I’ll text her. She’s used to random questions from me and she won’t even think twice about it.” 

“I don’t wanna know what you’ve asked her before.” She was trying to bring back her snark but she hadn’t slept and she was still freaking out about the house, so it wasn’t as effective as it could have been. She just felt safer behind it these days when it came to Stiles.

Stiles chuckled as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “You really don’t.” He sent Melissa a quick text message before glancing back at Lydia, growing serious once more. “So...your grandma had a soundproof room. And a record player with a record of white noise.” His voice was quiet. 

“Yeah,” Lydia said, looking around the room for a moment then turning to face him again. “I get what you’re saying. It’s like a banshee room,” she added. She hadn’t thought about it before, but it made sense. Well, not her grandmother being a banshee, but this room? It was hard to argue with it.

He nodded slightly, searching her eyes. “Maybe it’s...something that runs in your family,” he said after a moment. “I mean we don’t really know how it all works, but maybe it’s a family thing.” 

“Maybe if it skips a generation. I’m pretty sure my mom isn’t walking out of the house in the middle of the night to stumble upon dead bodies,” she said. It was a little overwhelming to think her grandma might have been doing that, though. “Or, I guess maybe she never got bitten.”

“Some genetic stuff does,” he murmured. “A lot of times the gene responsible for twins skips a generation. Or like you said, maybe nothing jumpstarted latent abilities for your mom.” 

“I know how it works,” she said, even adding the hint of a smirk. Apparently he’d been spending too much time with Malia if he felt like he had to explain genetics to _her_. “But I also know better than to try to apply science to the supernatural.” 

He hadn’t forgotten. Sometimes he just pointed out the obvious. “Yeah but that’s kinda the point. We don’t _know_ how all the supernatural stuff works. We can’t know for sure that there’s not some kind of scientific basis for some of it.” He shrugged.

Lydia nodded her agreement, because she knew he had a point. And it was something she’d considered before, but she’d never had anything to base herself on until now. “I guess it will take some research to find out for sure, but this room-- it does seem perfect. I was barely in here for two minutes and it just-- worked.” 

Stiles chewed his lower lip, studying her and then looking around. “It makes sense. I mean the houses are close here. If your grandma was a banshee, she probably didn’t want all her neighbors to know about it.” 

“No, definitely not.” And it was weird to think she might have known some of the other people. Like the Hales. If she was in Beacon Hills and she was a supernatural creature, chances were, she did. “I’ll have to find a backwards way to ask my mom. Or-- there’s the attic I could look at. I wasn’t allowed up there, either.” 

Stiles arched his eyebrows and looked upwards. “So why don’t we check it out?” 

“Don’t you have to go back?” She knew he’s been spending a lot of time with Malia lately and she knew that it was the day after the full moon so she was bound to be-- shaky at best. 

“Well, eventually, yeah. But I told my dad I’d be out most of the day so he wouldn’t worry. You know. Anymore than the whole fact we’re in Beacon Hills and there are more murders going on again.” He shrugged.

Lydia considered him for a second then turned around and started out of the room and toward the attic. “What about Malia?” she asked casually, glancing at him over her shoulder. It was Saturday, after all. 

He started to follow her, but paused at the seemingly casual question. The thing was, he knew Lydia pretty well. There was nothing truly casual about what she was asking. He considered his words carefully before speaking again. “I’ve been spending a lot of time with her, haven’t I?” His voice was quiet.

She didn’t look back this time, just kept on going. Suddenly wishing she had heels on so she could feel more in control. “Exactly, and you don’t have any plans today?” Not that she thought the two of them made plans. But she wanted to see what he was going to say to that.

He and Malia rarely made plans unless it was to study or to deal with the full moon. The rest of their relationship was more spontaneous and up in the air. He never really knew what to expect with her. “No plans,” he confirmed, following her out of the room and down the hall. 

Lydia did turn to look at him over her shoulder this time. “How did it go last night?” Despite how she felt about Malia, if Stiles was keeping her around, she at least had to hope he was okay and that she wasn’t hurting him. Because if she was, Lydia just might have to get more involved than she’d like.

He raked a hand through his hair. “It was...touch and go for a little while.” His voice was quiet and he didn’t quite meet her eyes. “She broke loose but uh -- she got herself under control.” Which wasn’t exactly the _entire_ truth. He’d talked her down. He’d been afraid he wasn’t going to be able to. Not for himself, but for all the people up the stairs. And for Malia herself. He knew what it was like to try and deal with the fact that you’d killed people. She already had the guilt of killing her mom and sister to carry around. He was determined to help her from acquiring anymore. “So it’s progress.” 

“Progress,” she agreed, nodding. That’s what Stiles kept saying. For her part, Lydia wasn’t seeing much of it, but maybe she wasn’t looking close enough. “Were you okay when she broke loose?” 

“Yeah,” he said honestly. “She didn’t hurt me.” She’d wanted to, though. Instinctively. She’d said as much.

“Good, looks like everyone made it through the night without a scratch then,” and then Lydia threw a smile at him over her shoulder. Well, everyone except for the house. But she was going to finish with that later. 

He was silent for a moment. “And Chris Argent is back in town.” 

Her face fell for a second and she actually paused on the second step of the stair toward the attic, then turned to face Stiles. “Did you see him?” She hadn’t spoken with Mr. Argent since he’d left for France. Since the funeral, really. She had gone over to the apartment to pick clothes for Allison and even then, they had barely exchanged two words.There wasn’t much to say.

“No,” he admitted, his own expression drawn. “Scott did, though.” He chewed his lower lip. “He helped him corral Liam.” 

“It will be good to have him around. He knows a lot of people and-- if this list has anything to do with the Argents…” Which, it had to, right? If the keyword was Allison’s name. 

Stiles’ personal plan was to stay away from the man. Not out of fear, because as scary as Chris Argent had once seemed to him, he knew he was a good guy. But he was going to avoid him the best he could out of respect. He doubted that Argent really wanted to be around the person responsible for his daughter’s death. And truthfully he wasn’t sure he could face Chris, either. He was probably a coward.

“Yeah, probably,” he murmured. “Plus Kate’s suddenly…” He waved a hand. “A were _jaguar_ or whatever the hell she is and Gerard’s still around and kicking.” 

“Gerard,” Lydia whispered. She hated that man. The brief interactions she’d had with him were enough to make her skin crawl. And she knew what he had done to Allison and Jackson. She didn’t need anymore reason to want him far away from all of them. “I hadn’t thought about him.” 

She turned around and continued her way up the stairs. “Do you think he might be connected to this hitlist?” 

Stiles hated Gerard too, for some of the same reasons that she did. But also for other reasons he never really talked about. “Wouldn’t surprise me. I mean, Scott screwed him over by replacing his pills with mountain ash so his body would reject the bite from Derek. He’s probably pretty bitter about that.” Personally Stiles thought the plan had been brilliant, even if he hadn’t been in on it right away. 

“And with Kate being back, he could use her to help him,” she added, stopping by the attic door and reaching for it. Frowning when it didn’t open. “It’s locked,” she said, turning to face Stiles in the very narrow stairway. 

“Exactly. If they’re working together, they’ve probably been planning for awhile.” Argent’s tended to be pretty good with that. Which meant they were going to have to come up with an even more effective plan to keep everyone safe. He glanced at the door and sighed. “Of course it is. And neither one of us has supernatural strength to pry it open.” 

“You’re _not_ going to pry this door open anyway! The only way we’re opening it is with a key, _without causing any damage_ ,” she said quickly, cheeks flushing. She could already see Stiles throwing himself against the door and it flying off its hinges. 

His eyebrows rose at her immediate response and he quickly held his hands up as if surrendering. “Whoa, okay. Got it. No damaging the door. I’d probably just wind up with bruised ribs or something anyway.” And he definitely couldn’t afford an x-ray bill on top of an MRI bill and the bill for his stay at Eichen House.

Lydia took a deep breath, calming herself down but didn’t say anything for a moment. “Stay here, I’ll see if I can find a key. And _don’t_ touch the door,” she warned, lifting a finger to his face in warning before starting back down the stairs.

Stiles shook his head and moved to sit down on the steps, rubbing a hand over his face. “If you can’t find a key, maybe you can find a screwdriver. We can take it off its hinges without damaging it, and then put it back on when we’re done.” 

“No. If I can’t find a key we’re leaving it alone. We’re not messing with it,” she said without looking at him as she disappeared down the stairs. She knew that technically unscrewing the lock wasn’t going to hurt anything, but she didn’t want to take the risk. Besides, she was pretty sure she knew where the key was, anyway.

Okay then. He watched her go and leaned back against the wall, letting out a breath and letting his eyes drift shut. He was going to have to get some sleep soon. Quality sleep that didn’t involve Malia sneaking in through the window, or staying up all night to keep her or anyone else grounded for a full moon. He had to be at his best in order to try and figure out what was going on and who was behind it and come up with a plan to stop it from happening. Preferably before anyone else ended up _beheaded_.

It took her a while to figure out the exact location but instead of going back to the soundproof room -- which she was already referring to as the banshee room in her head -- she made her way over to her grandmother’s bedroom. She used to play on her vanity a lot as a kid and she remembered finding a really old-looking key once. One that would fit the house. And then she started going through it, opening every jewelry box, every drawer. 

She didn’t find anything. 

Not until she opened one last drawer and pulled it out completely. The key just fell to the ground, missing her foot by inches. 

Once everything was back in place, she quickly made her way back up the stairs, “I think I --” she started to say, but stopped when she saw Stiles sitting there, head resting against the wall. So much for things being better with Malia if he was just falling asleep like that. 

Lydia took a deep breath and continued slowly, quietly, not to disturb him. He could find better places to sleep in the house, but she seriously doubted he was going to get back to it if she woke him up. So she left him there and held her breath as she tried the key on the door and heard the lock clicking into place, successfully opening it a second later.

Stiles started at the sound of a lock turning and he opened his eyes, looking over his shoulder to see Lydia opening the attic door. He rubbed his eyes with one hand and rose to his feet. “Guess you found the key.” The second one within twenty-four hours.

“I didn’t wanna wake you. You can go nap downstairs if you want to,” she offered, glancing down at him before slowly opening the door and stepping inside.

He stretched his arms over his head. “Nah. I just dozed off for a minute. I’m good.” He followed her inside the attic, coughing at the movement from the door disturbed years worth of dust.

She shielded her nose and mouth instantly, squinting as she looked around. “I’m guessing my mom wasn’t allowed in here, either,” she said under her mouth. There were books, notebooks, papers and folders all over the small attic. And if her grandma kept everyone out, then she knew there had to be more to it just a small library.

“Was she here a lot? I mean did she actually live here or was this her vacation house?” he asked uncertainly, looking around the darkened room.

“She lived here, we spent some weekends here but she was usually here on her own,” she explained. “Or, at least alone that we knew of, but apparently there is a lot we didn’t know about her.” As she spoke, Lydia made her way other to one of the bookshelves and picked up a leatherbound notebook, eyes narrowing as she opened it carefully since it was covered in dust.

Stiles glanced around, then reached out and tugged on a cord dangling from the ceiling, flooding the room with dim light. Not great, but better than nothing, he thought. He moved over to a small trunk by the little round window, opening it slowly and peering inside. 

Lydia stared at the notebook. Pages of random drawings, writing, scrambled letters and numbers with tiny notes on the edge that Lydia could barely make out. “Stiles,” she whispered quietly, glancing over at him. 

He was busy pulling out newspaper clippings with names and dates circled and highlighted, but when he heard Lydia say his name, he glanced at her over his shoulder. “What’d you find?” 

Instead of saying anything, she walked up to him and held the journal out, a stricken look on her face as she watched him for his reaction. For a second, anyway, because when she saw what was in the trunk, she cocked her head. “What are those?”

“Newspaper articles,” he answered, meeting her eyes for a moment and holding a handful of them out to her. “She was tracking stuff.” Like the way he did. He took the journal from her and sucked in a breath at the sight. It was so familiar and similar to what he’d seen Lydia do on multiple occasions that it was almost painful.

“There’s not much left to question,” she said quietly, reaching for a couple of the articles once Stiles had the notebook and reading out the dates. “I think she was more than tracking stuff. She was getting warnings about these things.” 

He rocked back onto his heels, staring at the journal for a long moment and then rising to his feet. “Lydia, is your grandma still alive?” he asked quietly.

Lydia hesitated for a second, then nodded. She didn’t really want to tell him, because she knew it was going to be more than just a piece of information for him. But obviously there was more to this than her grandma losing it. “Yeah.” She hesitated and took a deep breath. “She’s at Eichen House.” 

Stiles sucked in a breath at her answer, eyes widening in surprise. He was pretty sure they had their answer to the banshee question.


	2. Chapter 2

As it turned out, Lydia’s grandmother had multiple journals she’d used over the years. A lot of it made very little sense to Stiles’ brain (even after two large cups of coffee from the local coffee shop), but occasionally she’d written in complete sentences and expressed her thoughts and fears. He felt kind of strange invading the privacy of a woman he didn’t know, but knew was related to someone he cared about. 

He cast a glance over to where Lydia was studying the articles he’d found. They’d been pouring over the information for hours. He rubbed a hand over his face. “Any luck?” 

“Well, most of these people are dead,” she said lifting her laptop and setting it on the floor next to her before stretching her arms above her head and turning to look at him. “The articles that don’t have a follow up article about the person’s death, all have a date scribbled on them, that match the day they died, according to the database you gave me access to. There were only two exceptions and, well, this guy,” she picked up the article in a separate pile, “had a car accident on the date she scribbled. And I didn’t find anything on this woman, but she’s alive, apparently.” 

Lydia was guessing those were the people her grandma managed to get to before it was too late. Two people saved amongst hundreds of deaths. Sounded about right in her experience.

He let out a breath at that information. “I wonder how many of those were supernatural-related deaths,” he murmured, leaning back against the sofa.

“I’m guessing most of them. I didn’t even really feel last night’s death, I don’t think? Unless it happened while I was listening to the key and that’s what triggered it. But then, I felt it when Araya killed that guy in Mexico to test me,” she said quietly, shaking her head as she tried to ignore the increasing frustration she was feeling regarding all things banshee. “I don’t know.” 

Stiles watched her for a moment, silent. Then he pushed himself off the floor and moved to sit beside her. “Lydia...I know it’s taking awhile to figure this stuff out. All the supernatural stuff. The banshee thing.” He looked at her sideways. “And I know it’s frustrating and overwhelming that we haven’t yet. But we’re gonna get there.” 

Lydia sighed softly and glanced over at him, nodding. “I know we are.” But when? Not until after it was too late, probably. Again. “We might figure it out, but what if it doesn’t do any good, Stiles? I mean, she obviously has years of experience on me and…” She waved a hand toward the two different piles. “Maybe we’re just not meant to stop things from happening.” 

“You said two didn’t have death dates,” he said, arching his eyebrows.

“They could have been close calls. Like when we helped Kira,” she tried. She really didn’t want to believe it was all useless. But considering the piles and all evidence she had to support the opposite? It was hard to remain optimistic. 

“Or she could have saved their lives,” he responded. “And we don’t know that Kira would have survived if we hadn’t been there to help out. There are too many variables.” 

“I guess we’ll never know one way or another,” she said, dismissing the conversation. She had done this to herself too many times already. She knew there was no way of telling for sure and she knew that it was just going to bring her back to wondering about what else she could have done to help and protect Allison. And she didn’t need to be thinking about that in front of Stiles of all people. 

“I’ll just get started on this pile now,” she said, reaching for the next one. “Unless you wanna switch for a while.” 

They probably wouldn’t know. Not for sure anyway. He nodded slightly. “I wouldn’t mind the switch up,” he admitted. Maybe if his brain had new information to look at, he wouldn’t need a third cup of coffee for awhile.

“Did you find anything?” Even as she asked the question, she was already handing him the stack of newspaper cutouts and glancing over at the diaries. She was more comfortable looking at those, anyway. Because they felt more personal and she was her grandmother, after all.

“Most of it...didn’t make a lot of sense to me,” he confessed, looking down at his hands. He wasn’t really sure how much would make sense to Lydia either, given the drawings and scribbles. 

“If they were warnings she was getting I doubt they’ll make sense to anyone,” she admitted, smiling a little as she stood up to get the journals. “The ones I get barely make any sense to us until we have enough other information to make sense of them.”

Stiles watched as she moved over to get the journals, chewing on his thumbnail for a moment. “Yeah, and without the other information, our chances of figuring out all of the stuff she wrote and drew is pretty low.” 

“Well, if we can get the specific deaths and connect them to the drawings, when we already know how they happened, we might be able to at least find some of them. But we won’t know for sure if we’re right or not, so I don’t think there’s much of a point in doing that,” Lydia said as she sat down where he’d been on the couch. “But we can look at the other information.”

He nodded, yawning involuntarily and stretching his arms above his head before shifting and looking down at the articles she’d been looking at. “Maybe we should focus on figuring out which of these involved the supernatural in some way. You know? Maybe we can determine how much of your ability is because of the strange and unexplained.” 

“How are we gonna know for sure?” she asked, shifting to the edge of the couch so she was closer to him. “I mean, these are just the newspaper articles. Unless they all mention wild animal attacks of some sort, we won’t have enough information.” And yes, his dad was the Sheriff and he had access to the case files, but technically, Stiles _shouldn’t_ have access to them and she wasn’t about to get anyone in trouble.

“Well. For one we can check out the dates and compare them to what phase the moon was in when they occurred. Granted, that’ll pretty much only rule out what’s possibly were-related and what’s not, but it’s still a starting to place. Plus.” He shot her a grin. “I’m willing to bet a lot of the people named in these articles as witnesses are still alive. We can do it the old fashioned way. Plus, there’s the obvious.” 

“The moon is a start, but it doesn’t affect all supernatural creatures so that’s something to keep in mind. And then there is the fact that not all supernatural creatures will attack with claws/teeth, so that’s also something to consider when it doesn’t come to werewolves/wereanimals. On top of that, we should also consider supernatural creatures _being attacked_ , because that could trigger it too, I think.” Lydia arched her eyebrows at him, almost sternly. Of course he was suggesting ‘the obvious’ AKA, going to his dad. “I’d really rather avoid the possibility of getting your dad in trouble unless it’s extremely necessary.” 

“I know. That’s why I said ‘what’s _possibly_ were-related and what’s not.’” He frowned, giving her a look. “And trust me, no one wants to keep my dad out of trouble more than I do, Lydia. But he’s been looking into cold cases for months, ones that might be supernaturally related. All we’d be doing is helping him out.” He couldn’t shake the feeling that she was annoyed with him.

The fact that his dad was still working his way through supernatural-related cold cases was news to her. She figured, after everything that happened with Malia… But she decided against commenting on that. Or any of it. She was tired, they both were, and the more questions they stumbled upon instead of getting answers, the more frustrated she became. “Let’s see what we can find first. _If_ necessary, we’ll consider that option.” 

Stiles watched her for a moment, deciding to let it go for the time being. He wasn’t going to tell her he’d already been spending quite a bit of time helping his dad look through said cold cases. He was just glad his dad was letting him help. Then again Sheriff Stilinski knew that Stiles had a knack for picking out what was supernatural and what probably wasn’t. And the sheriff was still fairly new to all of the less...normal aspects of their lives. “I need more coffee. How about you?” 

Lydia looked up from the notebook she had picked up again and turned to look at him. Apparently they could both use a break. And a nap. But there was still so much to do and she was still so restless, actually sleeping was going to a challenge of its own. “I’ll come with you,” she said as she stood up again, starting toward the door as she turned to look at the spot where the wine stain had previously been and at least that was taken care of. Everything was completely white thanks to Ms. McCall’s magic. 

And just as she turned to look at Stiles again, she felt her foot connecting with a pile of the articles on the floor and stilled completely. “Shit,” she muttered before she could stop herself, eyes widening as she reached down to pile them up again quickly. 

He’d barely gotten to his feet when she tripped and he reached out instinctively, steadying her with his hands on her shoulders and watching as she reached down. That was when something caught his eyes and all the air left his lungs. “Wait.” He quickly kneeled down on the floor and picked up the article that had been in the middle of the pile, heart beating a little harder in his chest. 

“Oh my god,” he whispered, staring at it with wide eyes and then looking up at her, holding it out to her to see.

When he told her to wait, Lydia stilled and turned to look at him without getting up. She pressed her knees down to the floor and turned her attention to the article in his hands, with eyes wide, she looked from it back at him. “The Hale fire?” she muttered, shifting closer so she could read it. “Stiles, do you think she knew? Why wouldn’t she try and stop it?” Lydia didn’t exactly like some members of the Hale family but she would still have reached out to it if she felt something. And of course they would have believed her. Peter obviously knew a lot about-- 

Her face paled. “You think they know her?”

Stiles shook his head slightly, eyes still wide as he scanned the article. “Maybe she did. And maybe she was just too late,” he murmured.

She sat back on her heels and nodded slightly. “Probably.” Again the likelihood that she was just too late to stop it from happening was very very high given Lydia’s past experiences. But she turned to go through the pile anyway and quickly scanned it for more articles on this. “Especially if she didn’t really know them.” 

“Or if they thought the threat had passed whenever she got the warnings.” He looked at her, meeting her eyes. “Or she couldn’t get the warning to them for some reason.” 

Lydia held his gaze, considering him for a moment then nodded. “Maybe, if Kate knew about her.” But she didn’t want to think that she did, because it could mean she was in danger, too. Even inside the mental institute. Lydia looked down at the pile in her hand and cocked her head a little when she saw something that _wasn’t_ a newspaper article poking out of it. She held her breath and pulled the photography out slowly. Her eyes widening once more. 

“They knew her,” she whispered. She remembered the woman’s face clearly from what she’d seen the day she found out about Malia. “Stiles, this is Talia Hale with my grandmother.”

Stiles followed her gaze to the photograph, holding his breath and nodding slowly. “Yeah, it is,” he murmured, his mind flashing back to the night he and Scott had been trying to find a cure for lycanthropy and had seen a picture of Talia and a young Derek Hale. 

After staring down at the picture for a moment longer, she let it rest on her lap and sighed softly. “I wonder if they’d let me see her,” she asked quietly, glancing over at Stiles. She was also wondering if it was going to do any good because last she heard, her grandma hadn’t been in the best of shapes. 

His chest tightened at the thought of her going back to Eichen House for any reason. He held his breath for a moment. “I guess there’s only one way to find out.” 

_____

They had spent the rest of Saturday alternating between looking through the journals and cleaning the rest of the house. Which they managed to do, and as far as Lydia could tell, it looked a lot better and almost like the impromptu party had never happened. While that was a huge relief, she was still far from okay. 

Stiles had convinced her to go home once they were done cleaning, because staying at the lake house was dangerous and because she wasn’t going to make anymore progress with how tired she was. On top of that, she had to try and get some rest for the following day. 

Of course, that was easier said than done. 

Lydia had spent a few hours looking through old family photos and what she could find of her grandmother’s medical records that her mom had at the house. It was past four in the morning when she finally fell asleep on her bed, surrounded by research material.

And now Stiles was there to pick her up and drive her over to Eichen House. She had told him she could go on her own, but he had insisted on tagging along. 

She climbed up on the jeep and set her purse on her lap before glancing over at him. It was early for a weekend, just past ten, so she was guessing he hadn’t slept all that much either. “Hey.” 

Stiles managed about an hour and a half’s worth of sleep before Malia had crawled through his window and woken him up. She’d left a few hours later, and he’d passed back out for about forty five minutes after she’d gone, in time for his phone alarm to wake him up and alert him that he needed to get up and get ready to go pick up Lydia. Eichen House’s visiting hours on Sunday were much shorter than other days because they were short-staffed. 

He’d almost fallen asleep again in the shower, and his hair was still damp when he crawled into the jeep’s driver’s seat and sped to Lydia’s place. Though he and Malia had had the uncomfortable talk about her claws and his back a few weeks ago, he was still waking up to find her in his bed nearly every night. And he was going to have to talk to her about that because he was going to have to get a job and if he was going to be working _and_ going to school and playing lacrosse, _and_ trying to deal with all of the supernatural stuff, he was going to have to get more sleep than he had been. 

It wasn’t a conversation he was looking forward to. 

He’d insisted on going with Lydia today to Eichen House for a myriad of reasons. Not the least of which being that the last time they’d been there, her best friend had _died_. The memory of seeing Allison lying limp and lifeless in Scott’s arms, blood staining their clothes was forever seared into his mind and he knew it was for Lydia, too. It also never escaped him that it was his fault. Sure, he pretended like he didn’t dwell on everything that happened, everything he’d done, because if he let himself walk around looking like the mostly hollowed out walking corpse that he _felt_ like, that wasn’t going to help anyone. 

Fake it til you make it. And now there was even more reason to do that -- everyone he cared about sans his dad was on a supernatural hit list. There were _prices_ attached to all of their heads. And if Stiles had to guess? Those amounts were going to eventually tally up to a pretty high number. 

Specifically, 117 million. The stolen Hale money was funding this hunting party, that much he was pretty sure about. 

He glanced at Lydia sideways as she climbed into the passenger seat and he offered her a small smile. She looked perfect, as always, not a hair out of place, clothes neat and perfectly pressed. But her eyes were tired. He drew in a breath and backed the jeep out of the driveway. While he drove them toward the one place in Beacon County that frankly he’d _never_ wanted to set foot in again, he thought maybe distracting both of them with his theory would be a good plan. 

“So I added up the numbers on that list. I know we’re still missing quite a bit of data, but...I have a gut feeling that the total’s going to add up to 117 million dollars.” 

Lydia was definitely grateful for the distraction. Somehow, thinking about the deadpool instead of her shortcomings as a banshee and what it might mean with her grandmother being a banshee who was also at a mental institution now was easier. It nothing else, it was a lot less personal and she had no energy left for her own personal issues. 

“So if we add up those numbers we should be able to average out how many names are missing and how many part of the list we have to find,” she said, looking over at him but not looking away this time.

He looked as exhausted as she felt, and maybe she was going to ask him about that later, but now was probably not a good time for him anymore than it was for her. They were human, well, she was human biologically anyway as far as she knew. Their stamina wasn’t like the others. They actually needed rest and it just wasn’t happening. It hadn’t been happening and it probably wasn’t going to anytime soon.

“Or make a semi-close guess anyway. The problem is everyone’s...uh, everyone’s listed as being worth a different amount.” He pursed his lips, focusing on the road ahead, tightening his hands around the steering wheel a little. He let out a breath, glancing at her sideways. She, for instance, had a price tag of _twenty million_ on her head. Scott had twenty-five million on his. 

“Yeah, I saw the numbers varied a lot, from 6 to 250, I think was the highest. Do you think that’s thousands?” Because while 250 thousand was a lot, 6 thousand for someone’s _life_ didn’t really sound like a good deal for those killers who were supposedly professionals. And considering the precision in which Demarco’s head had been cut off outside the lake house? Lydia believed they were pros. 

He chewed his lower lip as he thought about that. “Some of them are in the thousands. But I think...others are higher.” His voice was hushed.

“Higher?” she asked, arching her eyebrows. 117 millions was a lot of money and they’d need a huge list to cover up that amount, but if Stiles was right then, it might make more sense if they were.. “you mean the smaller numbers might mean millions instead of thousands?” And that meant she had a pricetag of 20 million on her head and Scott, the most valuable one so far, had one of 25 million. 

Stiles nodded grimly, tightening his fingers around the steering wheel. “Yeah. That’s...exactly what I mean.” 

Lydia nodded, she could tell he was tense and of course he was, half the pack was in that list and the rest of it was probably in what was missing of it. “After Eichen House, I think you should drop me off at the lake house so I can see if I can figure something else out,” she said quietly. As much as she wanted to believe that her grandmother was going to be able to help her and figure out how to get her abilities to work, she wasn’t holding her breath. Not with what she had read in her medical files the previous night.

He shot her a sideways glance. “And by drop you off, you mean, of course, stay there and help you try to figure things out,” he responded. Because there was no way in hell he was leaving her on her own at the lakehouse when there was a hitlist with her name on it and someone had been brutally murdered just outside. 

She shot him a look and shook her head. “You don’t have to babysit me, Stiles. I _am_ a banshee and I’m fairly sure something would happen if they were coming for me.” If things were different, she might just tell Stiles she was going to have Aiden come stay with her, but as it was, she really didn’t have anyone to use as an excuse. 

“It’s not babysitting,” he said defensively. “I prefer to call it protecting.” He didn’t look at her as he focused on the road ahead once more, growing more tense as they drew closer to Eichen House.

Lydia sighed softly and shook her head but let it go when she saw him tense. She looked out the window and she could already see the unfortunately familiar place up front. “I don’t know how much help we’ll get out of her, assuming they will let me see her at all. When she was admitted, the file said she was in a ‘near catatonic state’.” 

He wasn’t convinced they’d let Lydia see her at all. “How long ago was she admitted?” he asked quietly, all too aware of the 72 hour after admittance rule. It had been what prevented him from calling Scott the night that the man had hanged himself, driven over the edge of whatever was left of his sanity by the nogitsune. He flexed his fingers on the steering wheel. 

At the question, she looked down at her lap and reached into her purse, just to have something to do, and she knew she was going to need her ID to get in there, anyway. They only allowed family to see the patients. “About ten months,” she said. “She was in a nursing home for a brief period, but she was too much for them.” 

At least the 72 hour rule wasn’t going to be the issue, he thought, glancing at her briefly at how quiet her voice had gotten. He shifted slightly in the seat, hesitating. “Were you close?” 

“Not particularly. I saw her a couple of times a year. She and my mom aren’t close either and I’m guessing the fact that she is keeping so many secrets is a big part of it,” she said sincerely, pulling her ID from her wallet and taking her time to put it away. “I don’t even know if she’s been to see her, but she told me I shouldn’t come because she didn’t like this place.” 

He understood _that._ There wasn’t much to like about Eichen House. He was, however, glad to hear that she at least wasn’t close to her grandma. That would hopefully make things a little easier. “All we can do is try,” he said softly. 

Lydia felt guilty that they weren’t close. Well, partially guilty and partially angry because her grandmother had to have known something was happening to her around the time Peter bit her. She knew her mom had mentioned her being at the hospital, at the very least and the fact that she had gone missing and was found naked in the woods had been in the local paper. 

“Yeah,” she agreed as they reached the front gates. “Guess we’ll see.” 

Stiles held his breath as he parked the jeep in the parking lot behind the large gates. The place looked almost as eerie during the day as it did at night, and it sure as hell _felt_ eerie. Probably because a hell of a lot of terrible things had happened on the property. He cast her a concerned look as he shut off the engine. If he could feel it and he was just human, he knew _she_ had to be feeling it at an amplified volume. 

“Ready?” 

There was definitely a permanent chill on her spine. The same one she had felt the night she had come in here looking for him, the same one -- although not as strong -- as she had felt when she was here with the Nogitsune. She really didn’t want to go in there alone, but she couldn’t be selfish to the point of at least offering for him to stay outside. “Are you sure you want to go in? You can just wait here.” 

He didn’t want to go in. At all. He wanted to throw the jeep back into gear and drive them as far away from Eichen House as he could get them _immediately._ But he didn’t run away from things even if he _wanted_ to. And answers to things they needed to know could very well be just inside. He wasn’t letting her do this alone. Eichen House wasn’t a safe place, let alone a happy one. 

“I’m sure.” He opened the jeep’s door and climbed out.

Lydia took a deep breath then nodded and stepped outside of the car and walked over to the front of it, looking up at the building for a second then glancing over at Stiles. The familiar urge to reach out and take his hand was strong, but she stopped herself, curling her fingers into a fist instead and trying to ignore the knots in her stomach as she started toward the entrance.

Similar dread washed over him, and he resisted the urge to look at her as they made their way to the entrance. He pulled the door open for her, shoulders straight and stiff as they stepped inside. Even now, the main lobby area’s lighting was dim, a reminder of the night he’d convinced his dad to admit him to the place in an effort to keep Scott and everyone else safe -- from _him_. He could practically feel the tension radiating from Lydia’s small form beside him as they approached the desk. 

Once they reached the front desk, Lydia stepped forward. She could see the way the woman was looking at Stiles out of the corner of her eyes, maybe recognizing him, or at least thinking he might look familiar and she couldn’t quite place him. Either way, she spoke up quickly, trying to keep the woman’s attention on her as she handed over her ID. 

“If you want your boyfriend to come in with you, I’m gonna need an ID for him, too,” the nurse said after typing for a moment, this time, without looking up from the computer. 

The woman definitely recognized him. She’d been working the front desk the night he’d come in. Considering all the insanity that had happened while he’d been there, he had a feeling a whole lot of the people were going to recognize him. Wordlessly, he pulled his wallet out of his pocket and pulled out his driver’s license. He slid it across the desk, not saying anything about her _boyfriend_ comment. It wasn’t like she was someone either of them cared about her opinion anyway.

While she almost rolled her eyes at the boyfriend comment, Lydia let it go. If anything, it was going to work to their benefit because it might make it easier for him to be allowed in with her. Once she was done with their IDs, Lydia took them and returned Stiles’ to him as she watched the woman wave an orderly toward them. 

“Brunski, can you take these two to 217? They have thirty minutes.” 

Stiles picked up his ID from her and slid it back into his wallet, tensing at the name the woman was calling over. _Great. That’s awesome._ Not really thinking about it, he shifted just slightly, putting himself between Lydia and the man who was now approaching with a smirk on his face. He wondered how pissed his dad would be if he punched Brunski in the nose before the day was over. Probably pretty pissed. 

Lydia both saw and _felt_ Stiles tensing next to her. She also saw the look on the guy’s face as he approached them and she shifted closer to Stiles. With one more glance at the look on Stiles’ face, she reached for his hand and wrapped her fingers around his tightly because he looked like he was about to attack the other man. There was no question that there was history there but they didn’t need to create a scene. 

“You’re back so soon? Not to stay this time? Such a shame,” Brunski said, stepping up toward Stiles. “The isolation cell is empty.”

He curled his fingers around Lydia’s without thinking about it. He didn’t plan to cause a scene, but he wasn’t going to take Brunski’s crap, either. “Guess you’ll have to forcibly drug someone else in my place,” he responded evenly, lifting his head and staring hard at him. “We’re just visiting.” 

“If you can just show us the way, you _clearly_ have more important things to do,” Lydia said, stepping forward so she was slightly in front of Stiles. 

“Absolutely not. Last time this one got loose in here, he caused a lot of trouble.” He eyed Lydia up and down. “I wouldn’t stand so close if I were you. We found his last girlfriend unconscious in the basement."

Stiles narrowed his eyes, heart beginning to beat a little more quickly in his chest. “I’ve already been approved,” he informed Brunski. “So why don’t you just do your actual job and take us to 217?” 

“You have a history, boy. I could get you back in here in no time. I would watch your mouth if I were you,” Brunski said with a smirk as he turned around to start down the hall. 

Lydia tugged on Stiles’ hand and stared up at him as they started to follow the man, then shook her head. They had enough to use against him from the time the Nogitsune was in control, even if she didn’t think they could actually lock him back up, she didn’t want to risk someone else being after one of them.

Stiles hated him. If and when this deadpool situation was taking forward, he was going to make it his next project to get the man fired for mistreating and abusing the patients inside Eichen House, even if it meant committing himself again to gather all the evidence he was going to need. He felt Lydia tug on his hand and he let out a breath at the look on her face, squeezing her hand lightly as they followed. 

He was almost a hundred percent sure there was no way Brunski could forcibly keep him there without a court order, or without his dad’s permission and the likelihood of either of those things happening was pretty damn slim. But he wasn’t willing to risk it right now, either. Not with Lydia there. Not when there were more important things that needed his time and attention. 

“For what it’s worth, I wasn’t the one who knocked her out,” he said, voice barely audible. 

She gave him a look. Did he really think he had to justify his behavior when he had been under that thing’s control to _her_ of all people? Their situations may have been vastly different, but she knew what it was like to do things and know you were doing them without being able to stop it. “I know you better than that,” she whispered back.

Stiles glanced at her briefly and gave a short nod as they followed Brunski to room 217. He tightened his grip on her hand just a little when the man turned to face them again, still smirking. _Don’t punch him,_ he told himself. _Don’t punch him._

“Don’t think you’re gonna be needing all of half an hour with this one,” he smirked, pushing the door open then shifting closer to Stiles and getting in his face. “I’m keeping an eye on you.” 

With her eyes narrowed, Lydia watched as the man came closer and pulled Stiles to her side, away from him. “Come on,” she said, starting inside the room.

His jaw tightened and he glared at Brunski before Lydia tugged him toward the door. Jackass. He followed her inside the room and then grew still at the sight of an elderly woman lying in a bed, strapped down. _The Five Point Restraint System,_ he thought, clenching his free hand into a fist.

Once they were inside, she paused too, her face falling when she saw her grandmother and the situation she was in. She had her eyes open, but she was staring blankly at the ceiling. She alway thought of her as someone distant, but someone strong who could do whatever she wanted and not worry about the consequences because she could handle whatever was thrown her way. But now, she looked weak and small.

Pursing her lips together, Lydia glanced up at Stiles with wide eyes. She had no idea if this was normal in this place, but she didn’t look like she needed to be restrained like that.

The way that her face fell made his chest hurt and he squeezed her hand, stepping closer to her. He very much doubted that her grandma was in need of restraints, but Brunski roamed the place and did whatever the hell he wanted without ever having to be held accountable for his blatant abuse of authority. He cast a glance toward the door, glad Brunski had at least left them alone for the time being. “He’s a douche,” he mumbled, reluctantly letting go of her hand and moving over to the bed. 

“Obviously,” she breathed, trying to shake off some of the tension as she approached the bed, looking down at her grandmother for a moment then cocking her head to watch Stiles. “What are you doing?”

He blinked and looked up, hesitating. “I was...gonna try talking to her?” It occurred to him maybe that wasn’t his place. 

Lydia nodded a little, taking a deep breath and stopping right next to the bed. “I don’t think she can hear us,” she whispered. She knew that when she was in a fugue state, she blocked everything around her, at least for part of the time. And that was what her grandmother looked like.

“Maybe not,” he agreed, biting his lip and perching on the edge of the bed beside her grandmother carefully. But it was what they were here for. He glanced over at Lydia. “What’s her name?” 

“Brianna,” Lydia said, she never really called her by her first name. Either it was grandma or sometimes ma’am when she was mad. But that didn’t happen very often. She glanced over at Stiles and hesitantly lifted a hand to cover hers, keeping an eye on her face. She looked a lot older than she had last time Lydia had seen her. 

He nodded, gazing at the older woman for a moment. “Brianna? I don’t know if you can hear us but...I’m here with your granddaughter Lydia. We need some help and I think you may be the only one who can do that.” 

When he said her name, Lydia saw her grandmother blink and stilled, her eyes widening. “You saw that, right?” she asked Stiles before shifting closer. “Grandma, can you hear me?” 

“I saw it,” he said softly, glancing over at her and then back down at the woman. “Brianna?” 

“Haldol,” she muttered, voice barely audible, but just audible enough that Stiles heard her word. “Dangerous.” 

“Haldol?” Lydia echoed, watching her grandma. “That’s a antipsychotic. Are they giving you that?” She asked the woman, unsure of what to make of that information. No wonder she was out of it. 

“It’s what Brunski likes to dose everyone with at every available opportunity.” He didn’t manage to keep the bitterness out of his tone when he spoke. His chest felt tight and he had to shut his eyes for a moment, trying to block out the memory of intense fear as Brunski ordered the others to drug him. 

Pursing her lips into a thin line, she watched Stiles for a moment then looked back down at Brianna. “I’m sorry. I know you’re not crazy. You shouldn’t be in here.” And she felt terribly guilty that she was being drugged and kept like this because of her powers. Probably because she didn’t have anyone to protect her when the warnings were too much for her to handle. She doubted the pack would let this happen to her if she lost it completely one day.

The only way Lydia would ever end up in a place like Eichen House because of her powers was over his dead body. And Scott’s. Probably Derek’s too, these days. They didn’t all always get along or agree on things, didn’t always take care of each other quite as well as they probably should, but they did always have one another’s backs at the end of the day. They were young. They were learning. He drew in a breath and let it out slowly.

“Moss on the walls,” Brianna muttered, eyes still unfocused. “Dark. Cold.” 

Lydia looked around the room when her grandmother started describing the place. The chill was permanent as she’d predicted but it wasn’t dark and there was no moss on the walls. It was pretty clear she was seeing something else entirely. Lydia lifted a hand and brushed her graying red hair back from her forehead. She had never seen her grandma without perfect hair and makeup before. Maybe that was why she looked so much older.

“What else do you see, grandma?” She kept her voice quiet not to disturb the trance, if that was what this was.

“Killers,” she whispered. “They’re coming.” 

Stiles paused and looked over at Lydia. They were already here, he thought grimly, chewing his lower lip. He turned his attention back to the older woman and held his breath, waiting to see if she was going to say anything else. 

“Death.” 

“They’re not coming for you,” Lydia reassured her quietly, squeezing her hand. “Whatever happens, we know about them. We’re already taking care of it. _Nothing_ will happen to you,” she whispered, then glanced at Stiles, wishing she could be sure of it. Wishing she could see whatever her grandmother was seeing so she could stop it before it happened.

He couldn’t help but wonder if Lydia’s grandmother was the least safe of everyone in the town considering the assassins, or if the safest of them all. It was a disturbing thought either way, really. 

“ _Death,_ ” she whispered again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So just as a head's up, we're still working on this fic as the show goes on, so there might be spoilers for the rest of the season as we go along. 
> 
> That said, any and all similarities between the Brunski + Stydia scene in the last chapter and what happened last night in the episode were all completely and hilariously accidental! We may or may not have been squeeing when it happened.

After Brianna’s whispering of the word _death_ a second time, she’d fallen silent once more. Stiles and Lydia had sat with her for twenty minutes, until it was time for them to go, and then he’d held his hand out to Lydia, linking their fingers together without thinking about it and leading her out of the room. He wasn’t sure what to say. He’d been through something eerily similar to this years ago. Except his mom hadn’t been a banshee. She’d just been incredibly ill. 

He drew in a breath and let it out slowly. “Are you okay?” His voice was soft. 

Lydia glanced back at the room then looked up at Stiles and nodded. She wasn’t, but that was never really the answer to the question when they asked her these days. Everyone already knew the truth, and they weren’t okay, either. There was just no point in talking about it. “How safe do you think she is in here?” 

Stiles was silent for a moment. “I’ve been thinking about that,” he admitted. “I think she’s probably safe from these assassins. But in general…” He grimaced. 

“The room she described, or, place, it might not be a room. Cold, dark and moss on the walls. Does that sound familiar?” She hadn’t been in the basement that night long enough to see how humid it was, to see if there could be moss on the walls. But there was definitely enough water and humidity in the part of Oak Creek the Nogitsune had taken her to for moss to form.

It didn’t take him long to pick up on where she was asking about specifically. “Not when I was here last,” he said quietly, looking away. But the basement of Eichen House had definitely been cold and damp. He couldn’t imagine there was any way they were going to be able to get down there to check it out right then, though. Especially not with Brunski on duty. 

Pursing her lips together, Lydia glanced over her shoulder and shook her head. “I wish I could get her out of here.” Maybe they weren’t close, but she wasn’t _crazy_ , she was just supernatural. Normal people couldn’t tell the difference, but they knew better. And her grandma knew better, too.

“You think there’s any chance you can convince your mom of that?” he asked hesitantly. 

“No.” Both because her mom wouldn’t believe her, considering she didn’t know anything about the supernatural, and because they couldn’t _afford_ to send her grandmother anywhere else. Not with how much money they already owed for her stay here. 

He didn’t think so either. “I’m sorry,” he said, looking down at the floor as they walked. He looked up again when he heard footsteps approaching. 

“Leaving so soon? Sure you don’t want to hang around for a few days?” Brunski asked him with a smirk. 

“Well, that’s a poor choice of words, considering the not so long ago suicide.” 

Lydia looked over at Stiles, arching her eyebrows. She didn’t know about suicides and she guessed it wasn’t that surprising it’d happen at a mental institution such as this, but she didn’t know Stiles had had to witness one while he was here. 

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and yours will be the next one.” Brunski grinned.

Stiles didn’t look at Lydia, just kept his eyes on Brunski’s face as they walked. “Keep hoping.” He paused, and turned to look at the man once they’d passed him. “Oh, by the way. Coach Finstock sends him warmest regards and hopes you’ve recovered from the tasing incident.” 

Coach? Lydia had no idea how this asshole was connected to Coach, but she tugged on Stiles’ hand and pulled him away before this could get any worse. “Let’s just go,” she said, headed straight for the front doors. They didn’t have any answers, on the contrary, they had more questions. She needed help, but she obviously wasn’t going to get any in here, so right now, she just wanted to head back to the lakehouse and concentrate.

Brunski glared at him and he smirked before turning back around and letting Lydia lead him away from the older man and down the hall. His momentary feeling of satisfaction dissipated quickly as they left the building and headed for his jeep. 

“You okay?” It was her turn to ask him once they stepped outside and hopefully far enough from the creepy orderly who apparently hated Stiles. Something else she wanted to ask about but she thought better of it. He didn’t need more reminders of what the Nogitsune had done to him.

“Yeah.” He shrugged it off because he didn’t want to elaborate on his time in Eichen House. It wasn’t like any of it had been fun or pleasant. He opened the passenger door for her and then moved around to the driver’s seat, climbing in and sliding the key into the ignition. He glanced in the rearview mirror and jumped, a startled noise escaping him as he caught sight of Meredith in the backseat. 

His eyes were wide as he turned to face her. “Meredith?” 

She lifted her hand in a wave. “Hi.” 

Lydia almost shrieked when someone spoke behind her and turned to look at the other girl with wide eyes. “How the hell did you get in here?” she asked, glancing over at Stiles then back at her. They had never met _in person_ , but she knew all about Meredith hearing her and helping the pack get to Oak Creek. She wished they had heard her when Lydia was sending out the message that she _didn’t want to be found_. But she wasn’t thinking about that.

“I...opened the door?” 

Stiles blinked and looked at Lydia then back at Meredith. He must have forgotten to lock the doors. “Are you okay?” he asked uncertainly, not sure why she’d crawled into the back of his jeep. 

“Lydia said she needed help, so I came,” she explained with a smile. 

“I-- _what_?” Lydia looked over at Stiles again. On one hand, yes, she’d been thinking she was going to need help to figure out the keywords, but she’d been hoping her grandmother would be the one offering help, not-- well, she supposed Meredith was another banshee, too.

Stiles arched his eyebrows at Lydia and nodded. “Banshee Radio,” he murmured, casting his gaze back at the curly haired girl. “We appreciate the help.” 

With a deep, calming breath, Lydia composed herself and turned to look back at the other girl. “Do you have anything to tell me, Meredith?” She asked in a voice much perkier than she felt and with a smile. Almost like she was talking to a child. She knew Meredith’s powers worked in a different way, and Lydia was pretty sure she was a much better banshee than she was if she could actually tell she needed help just from her wishing for it. Whatever connection she had to this ‘Banshee Radio’ as Stiles called it was a lot stronger than Lydia’s. 

He glanced at her sideways, frowning a little at her sudden change of tone, but looking back at Meredith anyway. 

Meredith cocked her head and looked at Lydia intently. “The phone’s ringing.” 

“The phone?” Lydia asked, but she quickly nodded and reached for her purse after glancing at Stiles quickly. He had told her about the phone thing. She pulled it off her purse and held it out for Meredith. “Do you wanna answer it?”

She reached out and took the phone from Lydia, pressing it to her ear. Her eyes darted around nervously as she hunched a little, ducking her head and mumbling into the phone. 

Stiles drew in a breath and glanced out the window to make sure no one was looking for her outside. He was relieved to see that no one was around. 

“It was a wrong number.” Meredith handed the phone back to Lydia. 

“A wrong number?” Lydia echoed, shaking her head and holding the phone back at her. “No. Try again. They have to have said something. A message to me. Listen to them,” she told Meredith firmly. “Just concentrate.” 

“It was the wrong number,” Meredith insisted, shaking her head. 

“Okay,” Stiles said gently, offering her a small smile as he rested a hand on Lydia’s arm. “It’s okay. Wrong numbers happen. Do you...think we might get another call, though?” 

Meredith narrowed her eyes at Lydia then rolled her eyes at Stiles. “I don’t know when the phone is gonna ring,” she said, like his question was dumb. 

Lydia sighed and shook her head, looking away. “You need to go back inside, Meredith. We have to go.” 

He gave Meredith a sheepish grin and shrugged. “But you came here to talk to Lydia and help, right? I mean, you must have a reason.” He hoped, anyway. 

She looked at him for a moment. “I know the right number.” 

At that, Lydia turned to face the girl quickly again, arching her eyebrows. “Then _what_ is the number, Meredith?” she demanded. “What is it?”

Stiles’ eyes widened and he turned his head to look at her. “Lydia, _stop_ ,” he whispered. 

Lydia stilled and looked over at Stiles, cheeks flushing but she didn’t say anything else. She was frustrated, yes, but it wasn’t with the other banshee. Or her grandmother. It was with herself and the fact that she seemed to be the _only one_ who was failing at grasping at this whole Banshee thing. If they were both getting warnings about the assassins and getting clues for the next code, why the hell wasn’t _she_ getting anything?

Meredith looked at Lydia with a deep frown then at Stiles. “2--4,” she paused, closing her eyes for a moment. “3--6.” She finished and smiled at him.

He knew that Lydia was frustrated and upset and scared. That she was running short on sleep. Hell, he was feeling all those same things in varying degrees and he’d barely slept, too. He was almost surprised when she fell silent. He looked back at Meredith as she listed off the numbers and then smiled at him. He couldn’t help but smile back at her. “Thank you. That’s great, Meredith. We really appreciate the help.” He hesitated. “Do you want me to walk you back into Eichen House?” 

She glanced over in Lydia’s direction then shook her head. “No, I can sneak back in through the side of the fence,” she said with a nod.

“Okay.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Be careful, though, because Brunski was roaming the halls when we left the building.” _Don’t get caught._

Lydia didn’t say anything else until the other girl had left the car. She waited until the door was closed and glanced back at where Meredith was headed before glancing over at Stiles. “There is absolutely _nothing_ we can do with four digits,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest despite herself.

Stiles watched Meredith as she moved toward the fence and then he leaned back in his seat, turning his head to look at Lydia. He took in her defensive posture and the look on her face and moved his hands to the steering wheel. “Lyds...I know you’re frustrated and scared, but it’s not Meredith’s fault.” His voice was quiet. “She was trying to help.” And he wasn’t convinced yet that she hadn’t. 

She knew that. And she already felt bad about snapping at the other girl. But she didn’t want to hear it from Stiles, so she looked away from him, just to watch Meredith literally and easily sneak back into the mental hospital through the fenced area that Lydia guessed was some sort of recreation area for the patients. She watched her for a moment, trying to calm herself down but it wasn’t any good, so she sighed and shook her head before finally responding to Stiles. 

“If you’re going to insist on coming to the lakehouse, let’s just get there and see if I can hear anything that actually makes sense.” But she sincerely doubted it.

He sighed softly and leaned forward, starting the jeep’s engine and pulling out of the parking lot, turning the numbers over in his brain. They were way too short to be a phone number, or even a zip code. Maybe a house address? He chewed his lower lip as he drove. “Maybe it’s some kind of code itself,” he said aloud. 

Apparently he was in detective mode and she knew he wasn’t going to drop it. Lydia rubbed a hand over her face and turned to look at him for a second before settling back against the seat and staring at the road ahead. “You mean a code to crack the keyword that will crack the code.” Perfect. 

“Maybe.” He glanced at her sideways, then faced forward again. “I don’t think the trip was a bust.” His voice was honest. “I mean, we might not understand it yet, but I think maybe there’s more to what we heard than we think there is.” From both her grandmother _and_ from Meredith.

“Well, whatever it is, we should figure it out fast. Because I have the feeling they are both on whatever is left of those lists,” she said. Them and whatever other supernatural creatures that might be living in Beacon Hills. The last thing Lydia wanted was to fail someone else. To let someone else die because she wasn’t able to get the message on time. She wanted to find some way to trigger this and control it so she could actually _count_ on it to work whenever she needed it to. And not have it just be a happy accident. She needed precision.

Stiles pursed his lips and started to respond when his phone began to ring. He shifted, pulling it out of his pocket and hitting ‘answer’ without looking at the caller ID. “Hello?” 

“You’re not here,” Malia said from the other side of the line.

He blinked a couple of times. “Where’s here?” he asked uncertainly. 

“Your room,” _Duh_. It was implied in her tone.

Lydia’s eyes narrowed as she turned to look at Stiles, this time just to watch him and try to figure out what was going on.

He felt Lydia’s eyes on him and he was pretty sure he also felt his cheeks turning pink. “Oh. No. No, I’m not.” 

“Where are you?” Malia asked. 

When he started to blush, Lydia sighed softly and shook her head. Obviously Malia. She could hear the faint female voice from the other side and she was fairly sure Kira wouldn’t make Stiles blush.

“Trying to figure out this whole deadpool slash hitlist thing,” he told her. 

“I’ll come meet you. I can just pick up your scent,” she said simply. 

Stiles hesitated, gripping onto the steering wheel a little more with his free hand. “I’m not sure that’s a great plan? I really need to focus.” 

That _definitely_ made Lydia look at him again. He was… uncomfortable? She thought they had gotten over this whole issue or whatever the hell it was that was going on between those two. At the very least, Stiles hadn’t mentioned anything else, but now she had material to ask him about once he hung up.

“I can focus. I’m coming,” she said, already sniffing the air.

He grimaced involuntarily. “All right. All right. See you soon then.” He slid the phone back into his pocket. “Apparently Malia’s meeting us there.” He barely refrained from apologizing to her about it. 

“And you’re not okay with that,” she pointed out. It was most definitely _not_ a question. It was in his voice, his posture and if Malia was there, Lydia couldn’t imagine her not being able to pick up in his smell, too. 

Stiles was silent for a moment, staring at the road ahead. “You don’t like her,” he said softly. That wasn’t a question either. 

While he might be able to read her easily, she knew he didn’t have the sense of smell, so she could at least try to lie about it. “I don’t like that she’s making you uncomfortable. I don’t like that you’re _still_ letting her, Stiles.” And she was worried about him. He might not be on that list, but he could get seriously hurt. 

He sighed. “We talked about the whole scratching thing. We’re fine with that,” he assured her. “But…” But sometimes he felt a lot less like a boyfriend and more like an adult who had to teach her about very basic things, and while he wanted to help her as much as he could...he was getting tired, too. “But sometimes I think maybe I’m in a little over my head, I guess.” 

“That’s something,” she said, sincerely relieved to hear that he might not be in as much danger as she thought he was. Him not getting hurt was a big step in the right direction, but this whole thing was still bothering her. She wanted to block out her own feelings about it, though and try to be there for him. 

“Unfortunately, in her case, I think you’re the one who is going to have to do all the talking and teaching, Stiles. She’s not emotionally mature enough, or even aware enough to know when she’s being-- inconvenient.” Maybe she wasn’t doing such a great job at keeping her own feelings out of it after all.

That was part of the problem. He wasn’t used to having someone who was constantly around him who couldn’t pick up on even his less subtle clues that he needed some space. He didn’t want to wind up snapping at her and hurting her feelings, but he was afraid that was what was going to end up happening at some point. “Yeah. I know,” he admitted. He’d always kind of figured if and when he was in an actual relationship, he’d be the one learning how it all worked, not teaching someone else about it. God, it was like the blind leading the freakin’ blind. 

“And you know.” She was going to regret offering this. She was already regretting it and she hadn’t even made the offer yet. Because she knew she shouldn’t get in the middle of this. She knew her own thoughts on it might not necessarily be what was best for Stiles. Because she was biased. And because no, she didn’t really like Malia. Well, more like she didn’t _trust_ her. Certainly not with Stiles. But she was going to do it anyway.

“If you need to talk about something, you can talk to me, Stiles. That and the guest rooms are still available for when you need them,” she said, pushing herself to get the words out. 

A soft, genuine smile touched his mouth at her words. A little over a year ago, he never would have thought Lydia Martin would even remember his name, let alone that they’d be close friends. And he definitely never thought he’d be talking to her about relationship troubles. It was weird how life worked sometimes. 

“Thanks, Lydia,” he said quietly. 

Lydia couldn’t help but smile back at him. When he looked so sincerely grateful about her offer, it made her want to help him even more. Maybe it was weird, he wasn’t Allison, not even Kira, and she didn’t like the idea of him being with Malia but maybe toxic and really terrible relationships were something everyone had to go through. 

“No problem,” she answered with a nod.

A few minutes later, he was pulling the jeep into the driveway of Lydia’s family’s lakehouse. He shut off the engine and glanced at her sideways. “We’re gonna figure this out.” His voice was quiet. Determined. 

She nodded a little and tried for a smile, but she wasn’t nearly as confident as he felt. And it was obviously up to her to figure this out. Normally she wouldn’t have a problem with that kind of responsibility, but she had no idea what she was doing and lives _literally_ depended on it.

He saw the doubt in her eyes and he reached out, laying a hand on her arm. “Trust me,” he whispered.

Lydia pursed her lips together and nodded, looking at him for a moment. She did trust him, more than she trusted anyone else, actually. The problem was that with _this_ , she didn’t trust herself. “Let’s go in.”

_____

They had been at the house for a couple of hours already, Malia had somehow gotten there in no time and the three of them had been in the banshee room since then. Lydia had a notepad on her lap and was sitting down by the record player, playing the white noise record over and over again. She tried to write, she tried to draw but nothing was coming to her, so she was trying to focus on the sound. 

Of course, focusing was going to be easier if the entire room was silent. 

“How long is this gonna take?” Malia asked Stiles. 

Stiles glanced at Malia sideways, then over at Lydia, shrugging. “Could be awhile. It’s not an exact science,” he said as quietly as he could, hoping Malia would also catch on and lower her voice a little.

She sighed impatiently and stood up, walking up to Lydia and staring down at her notepad. 

Stiles rubbed a hand over his face and rested his arms on his knees, bouncing one foot on the floor. 

“Why don’t you actually touch the pencil to the paper?” Malia suggested.

Lydia sighed when she heard the voice coming from directly above her and turned her head up to look at Malia. “It doesn’t work that way,” she said. It could, in theory. But she had to not be thinking about it, she had to let her mind go blank and wander for it to happen. And she never knew _when_ it happened. 

“How does it work then?” she pressed, kneeling down on the floor right behind Lydia. 

When she felt Malia suddenly right behind her, Lydia didn’t expect to turn her head and find Malia’s face _right there_ , too. Her jaw clenched and her eyes narrowed. “I have to _concentrate_ ,” she said sharply. 

“Well you’ve been doing that for like, two hours and it’s not working. Try something else.” Malia didn’t seem the least bit deterred by Lydia’s annoyance. 

Stiles winced. “Malia, come sit down with me.”

When Malia didn’t move, Lydia turned a little to look better at her. “I don’t _know_ what else to try, but if you have _any_ suggestions with your werecoyote knowledge, _please_ enlighten me.” Her eyes were narrowed, her hands in fists and her entire posture was tense as she stared up at the other girl.

Stiles rose to his feet and moved across the room. “Okay, come on.” He put his hand on Malia’s arm. “Let’s give her some space and quiet.” 

When he came closer, Lydia didn’t look at him, instead, she turned away from both of them and looked over at the record player once again, rubbing a hand over her face and trying to go back to concentrating. 

“I thought you said we were helping her,” Malia said as she stood up and let Stiles pull her away.

“It’s more of a moral support thing,” he explained as he pulled her toward the door. Sort of anyway. But Malia’s lack of experience in this kind of thing definitely wasn’t helping Lydia right now, moral support or not. 

“Shouldn’t she be trying to make sense of the numbers the _other_ banshee gave her instead?” she asked as they were leaving the room. 

Stiles rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s what I’ve been working on.” 

“But you’re not a banshee,” she pointed out, cocking her head. 

“Nope, I’m not a banshee,” Stiles confirmed as they left the room. He pulled the door shut behind them quietly. 

Once they were gone, Lydia sighed deeply and turned her attention back to the notepad once the record started playing again. It wasn’t that she couldn’t hear any of it so much as she couldn’t _make sense_ of what she was hearing. There were whispers, but they were not loud enough, not clear enough. 

With a sigh, Lydia dropped the notepad to the ground and stood up, rubbing her hands over her face in frustration as she stood up and stared at the wall in the same position as she had when she heard Allison’s name. 

“Why is this not working?” she whispered, shaking her head. “Why can’t I do this?” Her own voice sounded different to her, mixed with the other whispers. She knew she was close to attuning her hearing to where she needed it to be, but she wasn’t there yet. And she didn’t know what else to do. 

_____

Over an hour later, Stiles opened the door quietly and paused in the doorway when he saw Lydia still sitting on the floor by the record player. He bit his lip and stepped inside, shutting the door behind him and moving over to sit down beside her, but not close enough that he was invading her personal space. He had a notepad in his hand, too, with the numbers from Meredith jotted down repeatedly all over the page.

Lydia had her elbows on her knees, her face in her hands when she felt someone sitting down next to her. She knew it was Stiles because he wasn’t hoovering. And also because she _knew_ it was him. It just felt like him.

“Nothing,” she muttered, not looking up. She just didn’t want him to wonder if she had answers and get his hopes up. Because she didn’t. She obviously didn’t. 

Stiles turned his head to look at her, reaching out and laying a hand on her back. “Maybe you should take a break. I could fix something for lunch. You can check your text messages and stuff.” Which he was pretty sure she had, because both Scott and Kira had been texting him all morning. 

“A break from doing _nothing_ ,” she sighed, lifting her head to look at him. “Did you find anything?” She wasn’t expecting the answer to be positive considering it was _her_ responsibility to give them answers and not the other way around. But if anyone could make sense of things, it was definitely Stiles. 

Stiles grimaced at the question and shook his head, motioning to the notepad as he set it on the ground. “Not unless you count me scrawling the numbers all over the page repeatedly.” Mostly because Malia had been talking and he’d been trying to focus.

“Where’s Malia?” she asked, part of her instantly hoping she wasn’t getting her claws on something in the house that could be ruined. 

“Ahh.” He winced and rubbed the back of his neck. “Malia went home.” He glanced at Lydia. “I sort of snapped at her.” He wasn’t proud of it, at all. But right now the pressing issue was breaking a code that would _hopefully_ lead to saving all of their lives, and he didn’t do well with distractions when things were intense. 

“Oh,” she said, surprised that Stiles had lost his temper with her, too. But she could _definitely_ see why. The girl had been hovering and asking questions and demanding results when it _clearly_ didn’t work like that. With a deep breath, she turned a little on the ground so she was facing him. “You okay?” she asked quietly. 

“Yeah.” He nodded, grimacing. “I feel bad for snapping at her, though.” He exhaled. It wasn’t like Malia _meant_ to make it impossible to focus. She just didn’t know how to help. He was officially a jerk. 

“Well, don’t feel bad. If this is what you deal with every time she’s around though, you probably need to talk to her about personal space,” she said sincerely, and maybe she shouldn’t have worded it so bluntly but it was true.

He wasn’t offended. “It’s not usually this bad. I think she’s just freaking out.” She was worried they were going to find her name on the next list. “And I’m more on edge than usual which doesn’t help.” He exhaled. “We’ve had the personal space talk a couple times. It just hasn’t seemed to take yet.” 

Lydia nodded slightly. She didn’t think Stiles needed to deal with all of this on top of well, everything else they were already dealing with, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. He seemed to be feeling bad enough about it as it was. So with a deep breath, she stood up. “Let’s go get something to eat.” It was nice, being able to think of something as normal as relationship issues instead of life or death situations for a change. 

He nodded, rising to his feet and leaving his notepad on the floor. “What sounds good?” he asked, since he’d offered to fix lunch. He led the way to the door, pulling it open and holding it for her.

“I don’t even know if we have anything here,” she said sincerely. There was wine, but that was about it. Aside from the coffee and tea she and Stiles had bought the day before, she hadn’t really checked the pantry. 

“Oh. Well, then I guess we’re either ordering in or going out.” He smiled a little. 

“Yeah. I guess so. Let me grab my things and we can go get something,” she said, smiling a little too even though she was still incredibly tired and frustrated. She had to get a grip on herself. She had already snapped at Meredith, Stiles and Malia today. And it was all on her, not on them. 

Twenty minutes later found them at a little table in the corner of a cafe at the edge of town. He’d never been there before and he looked around curiously before picking up a menu. “What’s good here?” 

“I haven’t been here in years,” she admitted. “I remember liking the soups and sandwiches, but it’s a little too warm for soup,” she said as she looked at the menu. Just being out of the house was helping her feel a little less pressured, maybe she was actually going to be able to get something when they were out. Just in case, she picked up a notepad and a pencil and left it next to her phone on the table.

“Yeah, it’s too warm for soup for sure,” he agreed, looking over the menu. Truthfully he wasn’t all that hungry. Between his anxiety and the Adderall, he rarely was these days. “I think maybe just a sandwich for me.” 

Lydia nodded her agreement as she closed the menu. “I’ll have a turkey sandwich,” she said, picking up her phone to check on the texts from Kira and Scott she had missed. “And tea.”

Stiles nodded, ordering sandwiches and drinks for both of them when the waitress made her way over to their table. His gaze drifted to the phone in Lydia’s hand and he paused, something clicking in his mind. “Lydia.” His voice was hushed. He reached into his pocket and grabbed his own phone, unlocking it and staring at the keypad. 

“What?” she asked, looking up from her phone just in time to see Stiles quickly reaching for his own with a look on his face that told her he was on to something. “Stiles, what is it?” She dropped her phone on the table and leaned forward.

“2436,” he mumbled, reaching out and grabbing her notebook, quickly jotting the letters down with her pen. “It was a number. It coordinates with the letters on our phones.” He swallowed hard, sliding the pad of paper back over to her, face paler than it had been moments before.

Lydia looked from Stiles down to the paper, her eyes widening when she saw the letters he had circled and the name that had come from the numbers. “Aiden,” she whispered, looking back at Stiles and nodding. “Let’s take this to go.”


	4. Chapter 4

They had all agreed on meeting at school before classes on Monday. Lydia suggested the Chemistry lab for the meeting since she knew her mom didn’t have the first period on Mondays. She was the first one there, and she set up her laptop on one of the desks with the new part of the list pulled up. They still needed one more keyword to unlock the rest of it, but at least they had figured out Meredith’s code. Thanks to Stiles. 

It made her wonder if maybe she wasn’t looking too much into the supernatural side of things when they should be trying to focus on a more human approach. They were real assassins, after all and as far as they knew, they killed using very human methods. No claws, no teeth, no venom. Just actual weapons. 

Lydia sat down and looked down at the still coded portion of the list. She had no idea where it had come from, but that was something else they had to figure out. Soon. Before someone else got hurt. If they had a name for this supposed Benefactor, they could go straight to the source and not to the people being hired to take them all out. Like everything else, though, it was easier said than done. 

She glanced at the clock on the top corner of her laptop screen and turned to look at the door. Five more minutes and they’d all be late.

Stiles made his way into the classroom, looking wide awake and very alert. Adderall was _awesome._ His bookbag was slung over his right shoulder and he nodded at Lydia, moving over to sit down right beside her and peering at her laptop screen. Sure enough, she was staring at the still coded list. “Think it’s the last one?” He sincerely hoped it was. 

When he came into the room, she looked up from her laptop and nodded, glancing at him. “At least that’s the last of it we have. The code is about the same size as the other two.” That didn’t mean her powers hadn’t failed her and she had just parts of the code instead of all of it. In fact, it was more likely that that was the case than not.

He nodded, peering at it as if he could somehow decipher it just by looking when he very obviously couldn’t. Then he shifted his gaze to her. “You manage to get any sleep?” he asked.

“Some,” she lied. Every time she closed her eyes, she heard whispers. Whispers that she really couldn’t identify. She had eventually dozed off, but it had been far from restful because even in her sleep, she felt like she was trying to focus, to get answers that were obviously just not coming. “Did you?”

Stiles just gave her a knowing and somewhat unimpressed look at her response. “A little. Like...an hour and a half, maybe? Fortunately I have Plan B called Adderall.” 

“Well, I plan on actually getting some sleep when we get all the names, so, no Plan B for me.” And she said that with eyes slightly narrowed. She knew he could see right through her and right then, she needed to _not_ deal with that.

“Why don’t you come over tonight?” he suggested, lips tugging upwards in the hint of a smile at the way her eyes narrowed. Because yeah, he could see right through her the same way she could see right through him. “My dad’s working late, so we can just hang at the house and order something in and then neither of us is alone.” 

Lydia thought he was mocking her at first, but when he followed up with his offer, she figured it was genuine. And it was probably more about her name being on that list than actually keeping each other company when they couldn’t sleep. She glanced at the door, but when no one came in, she turned to look at him again. “Isn’t your house a little crowded these days?” Nights, particularly.

Stiles opened his mouth to respond, then shut it again, looking down for a moment. “Lydia, look...you’re always welcome at my house. Regardless. And she usually doesn’t even come over until the middle of the night. You should be safe.” 

She could have told him she didn’t want to get in the middle of-- whatever he and Malia were. But she could tell his offer was sincere. It didn’t mean she wanted to willingly put herself in a position of third wheel or something equally awkward, so she just shrugged a shoulder and nodded. “I’ll think about it.”

If there was one thing Stiles understood about relationships, it was how it felt being the third wheel. He’d pretty much felt like that the entire time that Scott had been dating Allison. He nodded slightly and let his gaze drift back to her computer for a moment before looking up when he heard footsteps approaching the door.

Although she wanted to say yes, she wasn’t really planning on going. She missed Stiles a lot and she had seen more of him this past weekend than she had in the past few months, but she knew it was because of a crisis, because of the list, because she was a banshee. He still had his life away from her now and it wasn’t fair of her to keep him from it. Even if he was the one offering. She was glancing at him out of the corner of her eyes when the door opened again and Lydia looked up to see Scott coming into the room. 

“Sorry. Sorry I’m late, the bike wouldn’t start and--” he paused. “Where is everyone?”

“We’re it so far,” Stiles told him, meeting his best friend’s eyes. “I don’t know where the others are.” He shrugged and glanced back at Lydia. His gaze flickered to the clock above the door. In a couple of minutes they were all going to be late. He, at the very least, would end up with detention. Probably Malia, too. Maybe Scott. Lydia and Kira were well liked by the teaching staff -- besides, Lydia’s mom was a teacher there and so was Kira’s dad. His dad’s sheriff status? Really didn’t make any difference when it came to detentions. But it didn’t matter. This was more important anyway, if you asked him.

“Late. They’re late,” Lydia said, annoyed as she looked at the clock, too. They didn’t have a lot of time left, even if this class was empty for the duration of first period, they had all missed plenty of classes as it was, especially the three of them. Especially _her_ and while she knew she could keep up, she didn’t need her mother to get a call from the Principal about it. Or have her dad come talk to her about ‘behavioral issues,’ that he apparently assumed she still had. “I think we should just start.” 

“I’m here!” Kira announced, stepping into the classroom and tripping over her own two feet as she did, but managing to catch herself before she fell face-first on the floor. “Hi. Sorry. I had to wait for a ride from my dad.”

Stiles barely managed to stifle a grin at her awkward entrance, shaking his head. He let his eyes travel to where Scott stood, grinning almost involuntarily, even if his smile wasn’t quite as bright as it had once been. It was a painful reminder that while Scott was moving on, he was still wounded, too. He wondered if it would always be like this. If Scott would always feel guilty for trying to start over with someone who wasn’t Allison. He looked down for a moment, then drew in a breath. “We cracked the next code.” 

Kira’s eyes widened. “You did? Of course you did. You guys are really smart.” 

“Stiles did,” Lydia clarified. She wasn’t mad at him for being the one who managed to crack the code, but she wasn’t going to take credit for something she did absolutely nothing to help with. Yeah, she’d tried but in the end, Meredith had given them the code and Stiles had cracked what the numbers meant. 

“Good job, guys.” Scott smiled, stepping closer to the computer and looking at the screen. “What was it?”

Stiles looked up at him, expression grim. He hesitated for a second before rising to his feet. “Aiden,” he admitted. 

Kira’s face fell almost immediately and she quickly looked at Lydia and then at the computer. “So what’s this list?” 

“More names and prices.” He rubbed his neck. “Your mom’s on it,” he said quietly. 

Lydia focused on the computer as she pulled the list up and turned it toward Scott and Kira. “There’s someone else we know, too,” she said, glancing over at Stiles.

Scott took a moment to read the names and reached for Kira’s hand, then turned to his best friend. “Is that the Deputy?”

“Yeah, it is,” Stiles said grimly, meeting Scott’s eyes. 

“What is?” Malia stepped into the room right as the bell rang, making all of them officially late for first period. 

“Deputy Parrish is on the second list of names,” Kira explained, glancing at her and then back at the screen. “Kate Argent’s also on it.” 

“What about me?” Malia asked, pretty much pushing her way between Kira and Scott so she could look at the screen. 

“Your name is not on it,” Lydia answered, arching her eyebrows at the other girl. “But we still have a third of the list we haven’t been able to decode.” 

“So we need a third key?” Scott asked, stepping aside for Malia and letting go of Kira’s hand in the process.

“I don’t know any of the others,” Stiles told them, looking at Malia for a second and then letting out a breath. “Yeah. We need a third key.” He leaned back in his chair, staring at the computer screen. “And we need to figure out who these other people are.” Because they needed to be protected. Or at least _warned_. 

“I’m gonna go -- talk to my dad and let him know what we found.” Kira looked away. She hadn’t really wanted to tell her parents about what was going on, because they already wanted to leave town and go back to New York. 

“Do you want me to come with you?” Scott asked, walking around Malia so he was next to Kira again. 

“I think you need to talk to your dad, too,” Lydia said, turning her attention to Stiles. After all, he worked with the Deputy, if they couldn’t approach him directly without him thinking they were all crazy, although, apparently they all already thought _she_ was crazy. “And I guess I can talk to the Deputy myself. Or try to.” 

“What about the rest of the list, we need to find out who’s on it,” Malia pressed.

“Yeah, that’d be good.” Kira reached out and took Scott’s hand. “See you guys at lunch?” she asked as she tugged Scott toward the door. 

Stiles nodded his agreement at Lydia’s statement. “Yeah, I was definitely planning on it.” He just hadn’t seen him since they’d found out. Beacon Hills hadn’t even fully recovered from all the damage the Nogitsune had caused, and now there was all the new stuff with wendigos and assassins and werewolves they didn’t even know getting killed horribly. It was keeping his dad pretty busy. But he narrowed his eyes at that. “No way. Not by yourself. He might not be safe.” 

He almost sighed at Malia’s insistence about the third list. “We’re working on it,” he said as patiently as he could. “We’ll figure it out, just like we did the first two.” 

“I think we should just skip classes today and work on finding that out,” she insisted, crossing her arms over her chest. “My head is more important than tipping.” 

“We’ve skipped too many classes as it is, and _you_ of all people, should not be skipping them,” Lydia said as she turned her laptop toward herself and closed it before looking at Stiles again. “He’s had the chance to hurt me just a couple of weeks ago, and he already thinks I’m crazy, I’ll talk to him.” 

“She’s right,” he told Malia. “Plus we kinda need mental breaks from all this even if it’s in the form of school.” He shook his head and focused on the girl beside him. “Yeah, but you weren’t approaching him like _hey we know you’re some kind of supernatural creature, and by the way there’s a price tag on your head._ It isn’t worth the risk of going alone, Lydia.” He rose to his feet, shifting his bookbag so it was on both of his shoulders. 

Malia sighed and rolled her eyes then started toward the door, adjusting her own backpack. 

Lydia took her time putting her laptop away in her purse then looked over at Stiles. “Then we go by the station after school and talk to him there. I seriously doubt he’d hurt anyone while surrounded by cops,” she said. At least the Deputy looked smarter than that, but she knew Stiles had a point about her not approaching him by telling him he was a supernatural creature before.

“Agreed,” he said instantly, nodding. “That’s definitely a good plan. A safe plan.” And safe was exactly how he wanted to make sure she and Scott both stayed. The others, too, but he had his own priorities. 

“You have practice today, right?” she asked as she stood up and glanced at him sideways. She knew he did, but she hadn’t really been to see the boys playing since practice started up again. It was something she used to do with Allison a lot, back in the day. 

“Yeah. But I can skip it.” He liked getting to actually play and Coach wouldn’t be very happy about it if he missed practice, but keeping his friends alive was more important than having to sit on the bench for the season. 

“No, don’t. I will work on things from here while you practice,” she said, starting toward the door. Whatever kind of normalcy they could still have even when there was a crisis was important for them to keep it together. And this weekend had been bad enough already.

Stiles followed her, gripping onto the straps of his bookbag. “Why don’t you come to practice?” he suggested, unable to keep the hint of hopefulness out of his voice.

Lydia paused at the question, well, at the invite, really. It was the hopefulness in his voice that threw her. Like he was asking because he actually wanted her there. “I’ll think about it,” she said to him for the second time that morning, forcing a small smile on her lips. Part of her wanted to go because of him and Scott. Because of the normalcy of it. But she didn’t know if she was strong enough for that. “We should get to class.”

He nodded, face falling involuntarily. “Yeah. Probably. I’m probably facing detention already,” he said with a sigh as they headed down the hallway. “See you in English?” he asked as he moved toward the steps that would take him to his second floor biology class. 

“Yeah,” she said, walking with him until she had to make a turn to get to her own class. “I’ll see you later,” she called as she turned away. She knew he was disappointed she didn’t say she was going, so maybe she was going to make an effort. Later.

_____

Stiles moved across the lacrosse field, trying not to let himself be distracted by the fact that there were assassins after his friends. Not the easiest of tasks, but when there was a smart ass little freshman kid chasing him because he had the ball in his net, it did make it a _little_ easier. He didn’t want to get pummeled. That made focusing a bit more important. “Kira!” he yelled before flinging the ball in her direction. 

It took quite some effort on her part, but a few minutes after practice started, she made her way out to the field and found herself a seat. Malia was there, as expected and she did sit in the same general area as her, but not too close. She didn’t want the other girl asking her about the third portion of the list. And she really didn’t want her smelling her emotions. It was so ridiculously invasive. But Lydia knew she didn’t really control that, so she was _trying_ not to hold it against her. 

Kira turned just in time and caught the ball, a grin on her face as she nodded at Stiles, then started toward the goal. 

He grinned back at her, watching as she ran across the field, dodging a couple of their teammates playing defense. He felt eyes on him and he turned, gaze sweeping over the stands and taking note of Malia -- he’d known she was there already -- and letting his eyes land on Lydia. His eyes brightened and he reluctantly turned back to watch and see if Kira was going to make the goal. Sure enough, he watched as she hurled it into the net a moment later. “Yeah!” 

When she saw Stiles looking at her and smiling like that, Lydia couldn’t help but grin back to him. It was hard not to when he looked so sincerely happy to see her there. When Kira scored, she actually stood up and yelled “go, Kira!” She hadn’t seen her play at all until now and apparently she was really good. Not that Lydia was surprised. 

“Yeah!” Scott called from the other end of the field and raised his arms in celebration.

Moments later, by some miraculous turn of events, Stiles had the ball once again and this time he yelled Scott’s name and threw it in his direction. Maybe he was getting better at this game after all. He bounced on the balls of his feet as his best friend caught it easily, grinning at him before he started running. 

It happened without any warning. One minute Scott was posed to take the shot, the next, Garrett had him tackled on the ground. “Dude! What the hell? You’re playing _offense_ , dumbass!” he yelled at the freshman.

Liam was next to Scott in an instant and without warning, he picked up the other freshman and tossed him away from his Alpha.

“Oh God,” Lydia said as she stood up. Not so much for Scott, she knew he wasn’t going to actually get hurt for being tackled, but because Liam had literally _picked_ up the other boy and tossed him on the grass. With _one_ hand. 

“I got it,” Malia said as she walked past Lydia and down to the field, straight toward the boys. 

“Malia, _wait_!” Lydia called, starting after her. The last thing they needed were two werecreatures out of control in the middle of the Lacrosse field. Not that that had never happened before, but she’d be glad if it never happened _again_. 

Stiles would be glad if it never happened again either, but it looked like that was what was going to happen. “Oh shit,” he said under his breath, quickly moving across the field in an effort to intercept Malia, or maybe distract the rest of the team from paying attention to Liam and Scott. “Malia, wait.” 

But her attention was on Liam and oh god, he hoped she didn’t rip his throat out or something. 

She didn’t. She did, however, reach out with one hand, and yank the younger boy closer to her before kissing him. He grew still, eyes wide as he held onto his lacrosse stick, mouth gaping. He wondered if he’d stepped into the Twilight Zone or something, but no. He was just in Beacon Hills.

Lydia stilled completely when she saw what the other girl was doing, her jaw dropping, her eyes widening as she watched Liam push Malia away, but she wasn’t too worried about the two of them anymore. No, she turned around to find Stiles and saw him standing just a couple of feet away from her. 

“What the _hell_ is going on here!? Malia, let go of that boy,” Coach called, then muttered something about ‘in the middle of the field’. “Everyone else, _hit the showers_ , we’re done! I’m done! And I need a drink…”

He wasn’t the only one. 

Stiles wasn’t really sure how he felt about what had just happened because mostly he felt numb with shock. He probably shouldn’t have been. Shaking his head a little, he pulled his helmet off and headed away from all of them, back toward the school. In the scheme of things, it didn’t really matter. No one had died. It could have been a lot worse. But he couldn’t help the twinge of bitterness he felt anyway. 

“Stiles, wait,” Lydia called, making her way straight toward him. She was still a few feet behind when she heard someone running in their direction and she turned around just in time to see Malia running toward Stiles, too. Her eyes narrowed and she stepped in front of the other girl. Malia definitely looked confused, but Lydia really didn’t care about her ‘progress’ right then. Not when she had hurt _Stiles_. 

“ _Don’t_ ,” she said firmly, lifting a hand to stop her. “Leave him alone,” Lydia added through clenched teeth and this time, she _hoped_ Malia could smell her anger, because she wanted her to know she was serious. Once she made sure Malia wasn’t going anywhere, Lydia turned around and started after Stiles again.

Malia stopped in her tracks, frowning deeply at her tone and the anger on her face. “I was _helping!_ ” 

“That’s...not really how we help people,” Scott told her as he approached, glancing at her sideways as he passed, still looking kind of shocked, too. 

When she heard Scott, Lydia didn’t even bother looking back. She picked up her pace and finally caught up with Stiles. She placed a hand on his arm to stop him. She knew he probably wanted some time alone, but she needed to check on him first. “Hey.”

Stiles drew in a breath before he turned his head to look at her. “I’m okay,” he told her, his voice flat. But he forced a small smile because he didn’t want her to think he was upset with her for anything. “Bigger problems to deal with, remember?” 

“No, you’re not,” Lydia said knowingly. “Why don’t you grab your stuff and I’ll drive you home?” She would offer to drop him off at Scott’s on the way in case he wanted to talk to his best friend instead, but she just didn’t want him to have to deal with Malia right then.

He looked away for a moment, then gave a quick nod. “Yeah. I gotta shower, but if you wanna wait…” He shrugged a shoulder. “I won’t be long.” 

“I’ll wait for you outside the locker room. I have to go grab my things, too,” she said, smiling a little at him.

Stiles nodded. “Thanks, Lydia,” he said softly before heading away from her and into the school, dragging his lacrosse stick across the ground. 

Scott followed closely, gripping onto Lydia’s shoulder briefly before he passed her. 

She gave Scott a nod and a small smile then watched as the two of them disappeared into the building. With a deep breath, she turned around to see Kira talking to Malia. She felt bad for Kira, having to explain _why_ what she had done was terrible. But Lydia knew it was much better if Kira was the one explaining that to the other girl than if it came from her. So she made her way back to the stands and grabbed her things before making her way into the school again to wait for Stiles.

____

  
Stiles stood at his locker, shrugging out of his lacrosse gear and shoving it inside. He let out a breath, tensing as he felt someone staring at him. “Don’t want to talk about it,” he told Scott without looking over at him.

“Dude, I don’t know why she did that, but I _swear_ I didn’t do anything,” Liam answered, standing a few steps behind Stiles.

He turned, surprised at the voice, and stared at Liam for a moment before nodding. “I know. You were as surprised as the rest of us.” 

“Yeah. She’s not even my type,” Liam said quickly, his eyes wide.

Stiles almost laughed at the expression on his face, not sure why the kid was so worried. It wasn’t like Stiles could do anything to him even if he wanted to. Which he didn’t. Except keep him alive. “It’s fine, Liam. I know.” 

“ _Hey_ Cinderella, did you need a goodnight kiss?” Garrett called, as he approached Liam and Stiles, a smug grin on his face.

“Shut it,” Stiles said sharply, glaring at him as he took off his lacrosse jersey. 

“What was that, Stilinski?” Garrett asked as he walked right up to the two of them. 

“He said _shut it_ , Garrett,” Liam told him, hands balling up into fists as he glared at the other freshman.

He cast a glance at Liam and reached out, resting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing lightly before turning his attention back to Garrett. “You’re gonna wanna walk away about now,” he informed him, jaw tight. “And next time we’re practicing, maybe you should double check whether you’re offense or defense.” 

“Or what? His girlfriend is gonna come in the middle of the field and kiss it _better_?” Garrett laughed. 

Without missing a beat, Stiles’ right hand curled into a fist and he slammed it hard into Garrett’s face, watching with satisfaction as the younger man hit the floor. “Told you you were gonna wanna walk away, asshole,” he grumbled, shaking his hand as pain flickered through it. He looked over to see Scott standing a few feet away, wide-eyed. He gave his best friend a slight shrug before turning to glance at Liam to make sure he wasn’t about to wolf out. Mostly he just looked kinda stunned. 

Scott made his way over to Stiles, only pausing briefly to make sure Garrett didn’t look _too_ bad before turning his attention back to his best friend and his beta. “You two okay?” 

Liam took a deep breath and shook some of the tension from his shoulders, then nodded.

“I’m fine. Gotta hit the showers,” Stiles told him, patting his arm before heading away. 

“Jackass,” Garrett mumbled, wiping at his bloody nose with the back of his shirt sleeve. He glared up at Scott and Liam. 

____

As promised, Lydia had been outside the locker room by the time Stiles got out. She had half expected Malia to show up there, too, but luckily there had been no sign of the other girl anywhere while Lydia waited. Or as they made their way over to the parking lot. Of course, that was no guarantee that Malia wasn’t listening to them, so she waited until they were in her car and driving away from school to really say anything to Stiles. 

“Do you wanna head straight to your house?” she asked. They had talked about going to the police station after school, but she wasn’t sure he was ready to focus on anything else for the time being. And honestly, she could use a little break from all things assassin/keyword related. They could go by in a few hours.

Stiles’ head was resting against the passenger seat window as he stared out. He didn’t like leaving his jeep behind, but he’d just get Scott or his dad to give him a ride to school in the morning. He didn’t really feel like driving anyway.

“We should go to the station,” he mumbled, even though he really didn’t feel like dealing with that right now. _Priorities,_ he reminded himself. He exhaled, shifting in the seat and looking straight out the windshield. 

“We’ll go later. You said your dad was working until late anyway, right?” Lydia asked, already making her way toward his house. It was a short drive, and considering how exhausted Stiles looked, she was glad he was going to get home soon. But she hoped she could at least talk to him some before he went to bed.

Stiles nodded and leaned back against the seat. “Yeah. Might be another overnight shift. He’s been pretty busy for awhile.” His voice was devoid of emotion. 

Lydia glanced toward him and pursed her lips together. She didn’t really want him to be alone and although she knew that Scott was his best friend and they talked about everything, she wasn’t sure Scott was the better person for him to talk to right then. After all, both Scott’s relationships had been pretty healthy as far as Lydia knew. She knew for sure things were good with Allison, even after they broke up they had always been good to each other. And then there was Kira, and she was extremely sweet and they liked each other a lot. On the other hand, she knew her relationship with Jackson had been pretty terrible for both of them. And of course, things with Aiden had ended badly for him, because of her. 

So when it came to bad relationships, she definitely had the most experience out of the two. But she had to at least offer. “Do you wanna go see Scott?”

The question caught him off guard and he glanced at her sideways. “No.” It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to his best friend about what had happened, because he did. Just not yet. He hadn’t even had time to process it himself. And he was upset. He didn’t want to wind up taking that out on Scott. He was a lot less likely to snap at Lydia. He drew in a breath and let it out slowly. “No, I just...wanna go home.” 

“Okay,” Lydia agreed quietly, but she didn’t say anything else the rest of the drive. If this had happened to her, she probably wouldn’t have wanted to go see her best friend, either. If she was around. Likely, she’d have locked herself in the bathroom and refused to come out until she could re-apply her makeup and come out looking like there was nothing bothering her, and like she was completely over it. 

So she decided to give Stiles some quiet time, at least until she parked in front of his house. Then she turned to look over at him and reached for her purse. She was _definitely_ coming in. He had invited her earlier, right? “Come on,” she said, reaching to unlock the doors before stepping out of the car.

He exhaled, nodding briefly before reaching for the car door and climbing out. He dug his keys out of his jeans pocket and shuffled up to the front door of his house, unlocking it and dropping his keys in the basket by the door and watching as she followed him in. Then he shut and locked the door, flipping the lights on. “You hungry?” He definitely wasn’t. 

“Not right now,” she said, adjusting her purse over her shoulder as she turned to face him. She wanted him to try and rest, but she knew better than to suggest it. He would never agree to it, especially if she told him she was going to try and break the other code in the meantime.

Stiles nodded and dropped his bag by the stairs. “Something to drink?” he offered, moving into the kitchen and over to the fridge. 

“I’m okay, Stiles.” Mostly, she was worried about him, so she followed him into the kitchen, just letting him move around for a moment. But there was only so long she was willing to wait before she asked him how he was doing. Obviously not well, but she wanted to hear it from him.

“Okay.” He pulled a bottle of water out and unscrewed the cap before taking a drink. “Lacrosse makes me thirsty.” He downed half the bottle before he ventured a glance at her again. He was silent for a moment longer. “I’m okay.” 

“You lost a lot of liquid out there, you need to hydrate yourself.” She almost went on to talk about his kidneys telling him about him needing to balance out the fluids in his body, but she stopped herself. He didn’t need a human biology lesson right then. 

Instead, she stepped further into the kitchen and placed her purse over one of the chairs, then shook her head. “It’s okay for you to _not_ be okay, you know? I would be seriously pissed and upset if I were you.” And possibly plotting revenge since she only imagined Jackson doing something like that and that had been how their relationship worked. 

He nodded in acknowledgement about staying hydrated. He knew all about the reasons it was important to do so. He’d written a research paper in sixth grade about dehydration and facts that most people couldn’t care less about tended to stick in his mind forever. 

But he watched as she set her purse down and then turned to look at him. He pursed his lips and looked at the floor as he shrugged. “I don’t really feel anything right now. Just kinda numb, I guess. Which is weird, because as startling as it was, I can’t actually say I’m that surprised?” 

Lydia took a couple of steps closer to him, frowning. She definitely didn’t like the sound of that. He wasn’t surprised? Had Malia done something like that to him before? “What do you mean?” she asked, cocking her head. 

“I mean...she literally has no boundaries, so I’m not surprised.” He let out a breath. 

“I guess that’s true,” Lydia agreed. “Maybe that’s something else you need to talk to her about,” she suggested, watching him closely. She knew he had to be at the very least angry about it. No matter how unusual his relationship with Malia was, he cared about her, right?

Stiles grimaced. “Yeah.” Except right then, he didn’t actually want to talk to Malia at all. Which probably made him a bad person. It wasn’t like she really knew any better. Could he really hold something like this against her? Was it fair? He raked a hand through his hair and took another drink. 

“Stiles, listen.” Lydia took a deep breath and considered her words carefully for a moment. “I know there’s a lot she doesn’t understand. And I know you’re trying to help her. But I can see how much it’s weighing on you and I think you need to take a step back and see how much it’s costing _you_ to try and protect her because she still has so much to learn.” She wasn’t going to come out and say that she thought Malia wasn’t anywhere near ready to be romantically involved with someone, but when she was hurting Stiles? Lydia had to at least say _something_.

She wasn’t wrong, really. And it was strange, because helping Scott when he’d first turned into a werewolf, and helping Lydia try and figure out all of the banshee stuff was never as difficult as everything with Malia felt. He nodded, rubbing a hand over his face tiredly and moving to sit down at the table. He laid his head back against the chair. “Is it really fair for me to just…” He waved a hand. “Abandon her? Is it even _safe_? I mean, she’s come a long way with control and everything but...there’s still so much left to do.” 

“I’m not saying you need to abandon her,” she said quietly, leaning back against the table next to the chair he had sat down on. “But maybe she doesn’t need to be your responsibility. She has the entire pack and Scott and Derek are already teaching Liam control, I’m sure they could help her, too. I can help, and so can Kira.” She hadn’t been involving herself with Malia much aside from a few notes from classes, but she would, for Stiles.

“I _feel_ responsible for her,” he admitted, voice growing more quiet. He looked over at her. He felt responsible for a hell of a lot things. He shrugged and looked down at the table top. If he just stepped back and let the pack take over in helping Malia instead of him, would that even be _right?_ It wasn’t like there wasn’t anything else going on. Derek had been robbed -- or Peter and Derek had, but he didn’t _count_ Peter. Scott and Lydia and Kira had to be on guard twenty-four seven because there assassins waiting for a shot at them. Plus Liam had only been through one full moon and he was still angry as hell at the world. 

“But you’re not.” Lydia reached for his arm and squeezed it gently. “Stiles, look at me. You’re not responsible for her. She still has her dad, even if he doesn’t know anything about the werecoyote, he _can_ help with her socialization and there are other ways of helping her that don’t include you watching over her 24/7.” She was already making a mental list of movies and books Malia should watch that she could pick up social cues from. “And honestly, out of all of us, she is probably the one who can stand up for herself and defend herself the most if necessary.” 

Stiles looked at her again, feeling his chest tighten at her words. “She’s so afraid she’s gonna end up hurting someone, Lydia,” he whispered. “And I know what that’s like.” He chewed his lower lip. “And what if -- what if I do this, what if I back off and she _does?_ What if she ends up killing her dad? Or someone else? Because she can’t get control over herself. Her life isn’t the only one at stake.” It never had been. 

“I’m not telling you to back off completely. And the fact that she’s _afraid_ of hurting someone is a _good_ thing, Stiles. It means she will try her hardest to keep herself under control so that she doesn’t do something she will regret.” Lydia reached for a chair and pulled it closer to him so she could sit down, but she never took her eyes off him as she did. “I think she has enough control over herself at this point to know if she’s slipping and if she’s about to lose control, she can call one of us. But you _need_ a break. You need some space. And she needs to understand and respect that.” 

It was hard to argue with her rationale, really. Then again, it generally was. Lydia was smart. He offered her a wan smile. “I’ve missed this,” he told her after a moment, guilt flickering in his eyes. “Hanging out and talking to you. I’ve missed it.” 

That was _definitely_ unexpected. Her chest tightened and she pursed her lips together as she stared at him. Her eyes might have gotten a little brighter as they teared up, too. Because she missed it too. She missed _him_. A lot. She didn’t feel nearly as alone when he was around. And it was just like Stiles to make her feel so many confusing emotions with three sentences while she was trying to help _him_ and _his_ relationship. 

All Lydia managed to do was nod for a moment, then she smiled softly and nodded again. “Yeah. Me too.”

Stiles swallowed heavily and nodded. “I’ll talk to Scott tomorrow about everything,” he said softly, reaching out and covering her hand with his. There was a mixture of dread and relief vying for control of his emotions and he wasn’t sure which one was going to win out ultimately. “I don’t really wanna think about it tonight, you know?” He rubbed the side of his face with his free hand. “I just kind of want to shut my brain down for a few hours.” He exhaled.

Lydia nodded a little and stood up, turning his hand under his so she could wrap her fingers around it. “Why don’t we just find something to watch and relax for a couple of hours?” she suggested, smiling softly at him. If he needed to shut his brain down, research was definitely not going to happen. “I’ll even let you pick something for us.”

He rose to his feet and nodded, picking up his bottle of water that was almost gone, but not quite, and letting her lead the way toward the stairs. She’d been to his house enough now that she knew her way around pretty well, and she definitely knew where his room was. It was where they usually ended up hanging out or doing homework. “Spider-Man?” he suggested. 

“Sure,” she agreed. Glad he had picked a superhero movie rather than sci-fi. She usually had a hard time with those because she just kept focusing on how little sense their idea of physics made in real world applications. Superheroes had lots of problems, too, but they were easier to get into because they were more focused on the characters rather than on their fake science. “I haven’t really seen any of them,” she admitted as she pulled him into his room.

His eyes widened, mouth dropping open almost comically. “You’ve never seen Spider-Man?” The disbelief in his voice was unmistakable. “What?” 

Lydia pursed her lips together, trying not to smile at his reaction because somehow, it was adorable and hilarious at the same time. “Nope. I think I’ve seen parts of it when it was on cable but I’ve never seen it. I just vaguely remember something about picking up a tray with his web thing?” she said, holding out her hand palm down and pulling it up. “I don’t know.”

Stiles just stared at her for a moment, then shook his head. “Okay we definitely have to remedy this situation right now because this is just wrong. First Scott doesn’t watch Star Wars, and now you haven’t seen Spider-Man. How are either of you even my friends,” he mumbled, moving over to his DVD collection.

As he mumbled, Lydia sat down on the edge of his bed and pulled her boots off, setting them down next to his bedside table. She had momentarily forgotten all about the lake house, her grandma, the assassins and the lists. Partially because Stiles needed her not to bring those things up, partially because he helped her relax in a way no one else really managed to. “We’ll start with this one, Star Wars is something else entirely.” 

“...you haven’t seen Star Wars either!?”


	5. Chapter 5

The second they laid down on Stiles’ bed to watch the movie, Lydia knew it wasn’t going to be much longer before they fell asleep. They were both exhausted, emotionally and physically and there was a comfort that came with being in a familiar, supposedly safe place with someone you trusted. There was no harm in getting a little rest. Maybe, for a couple of hours. 

Although apparently, the couple of hours turned out to be a lot longer than that. 

Lydia had definitely been comfortable. Stiles’ arm was wrapped around her waist and her hands were resting over it. But she woke up suddenly, her eyes snapping open and all she saw were sharp teeth right in front of her face, and a pair of blue, glowing eyes. 

She screamed instantly and pressed back against Stiles, holding on to his arm as whoever was there with them growled loudly.

It hadn’t taken long for him to pass out. His arm wound around Lydia’s waist sometime in his sleep and his face was buried against her neck, her body soft and warm against his own. It was the first time he’d slept _well_ since he could even remember. He felt her shift just slightly and then she _screamed_.

Stiles shot up in bed, eyes flying open. He saw Malia immediately, and his eyes widened. It hadn’t really occurred to him that she’d still show up in the middle of the night after what happened earlier with Liam. “Malia!” 

Malia growled lowly in response, her eyes going to Lydia to Stiles. 

“What the _hell_?” Lydia said, sitting up too and looking over at the girl with wide eyes. She also hadn’t been expecting her to just show up there. But apparently this _was_ in the middle of the night and they had been sleeping for a long time. 

And all of the sudden, the door flew open and the Sheriff stepped into the room, gun in hand as he looked at the three teenagers. “What was _that_?”

Well this was just getting better by the minute, he thought, quickly climbing out of bed and moving to put himself between Lydia and Malia. He glanced over at his dad, wincing. “It’s okay, Dad. Everything’s fine.” Hopefully. 

Malia’s eyes were still glowing blue and she glared at Lydia as she stood in a defensive posture. 

Lydia stood up from the bed, too, she looked over at the Sheriff and smiled a little. “Sorry. Malia scared me and I screamed. I didn’t mean to wake you.” And it looked like it was a lot later than Lydia imagined if the Sheriff was already home. 

He looked between the three of them for a second then lowered his gun, sighing. “You kids figure this out, I’m going back to bed,” he said, giving Stiles a pointed look before turning around and walking out of the room again.

Stiles rubbed a hand over his face as his dad headed back out of the room, leaving the door open. Which was, of course, his very subtle way of letting Stiles know that he was right across the hall if they needed him. He drew in a breath and turned to face Malia. “What are you _doing_ here, Malia?” His voice was calm despite how quickly his heart was still beating. 

“I _always_ come here,” she answered, eyes still narrowed and glowing. 

Lydia felt like she should step out so they could talk or-- whatever it was that they were going to do but she really didn’t feel comfortable leaving Stiles along when Malia looked like she was about to rip someone’s throat out. Even if she did have the feeling that her own throat was more in danger of being ripped out than Stiles’. 

He raked a hand through his hair. “Yeah, well, put away the glowing eyes and stop growling,” he told her. “We don’t growl at other people in the pack, remember?” He moved over to his desk and turned on the lamp, not wanting to turn on the overhead light and blind himself and Lydia. 

“And the claws,” Lydia added, arching her eyebrows as she glanced down at Malia’s hand even though the light from the lamp made her squint some. 

Malia’s eyes narrowed even more but they did turn back to brown. The claws remained however. “She was in my spot.”

“We fell asleep watching a movie,” Stiles told her, keeping his voice calm and even. He reached out and rested his hands on Malia’s shoulders, guiding her to his desk chair before glancing over his shoulder at Lydia. 

Although Lydia wanted to remind Malia that this was _Stiles_ ’ bed and not hers, she managed not to say anything. Instead, she focused on Stiles and held his gaze as she mouthed ‘you okay?’. If he said yes, then she’d feel comfortable leaving the two alone. 

He just nodded ever-so-slightly at her in response before facing Malia once more. He perched against the edge of his desk, looking down at the floor for a moment. He wasn’t sure he was awake enough to have this conversation but he was going to do his best. 

“Why are you nervous?” Malia asked. 

Lydia sighed and rolled her eyes but forced herself to step out of the bedroom. She’d wait downstairs for a while. If Malia didn’t leave and if Lydia didn’t hear anything bad happening, she’d leave the two of them alone. 

Stiles watched from the corner of her eye as Lydia left the room, leaving he and Malia alone in his room. “We need to talk about some things,” he said, voice growing more quiet than even before. “And I need you to try and stay calm, okay?” 

Malia flexed her fingers and her claws disappeared once Lydia was out of the room. Then she turned her attention to Stiles. “What?”

He lifted his gaze to look at her. “Look,” he said softly. “Malia, I like you. And I want to keep helping you figure out all this human stuff. But...I think maybe we shouldn’t have mixed that all up with…” He motioned his hand between them. “Us.” 

She cocked her head as she frowned at him. “So you want to help me, but you don’t?” 

He almost smiled. Almost. “No, I definitely want to help you. But I don’t think we should mix it up with you and I and the whole...dating thing.” If that was even what they were really doing. They’d never actually defined it. 

Malia’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t want me to sleep here anymore because you want Lydia to sleep here.” 

Stiles blinked a couple of times, surprised by her response. “Malia, I don’t want you to sleep here anymore because _I_ don’t sleep when you’re here,” he said, holding up his hands. “And I sorta need sleep. Like...a lot more of it than I’ve been getting.” It had been months since he’d actually slept through the night, and even longer since he’d done so without having nightmares. “And things are really complicated right now with all of this deadpool stuff and trying to figure that out.” 

“I can let you sleep,” she said with a shrug. “I don’t need that much sleep. It gets boring.” 

He looked down, rubbing the back of his neck. “You kissed Liam.” It wasn’t an accusation, just a quiet statement of fact. 

“And Kira said apparently that was bad,” she sighed, rolling her eyes. “Is that why?”

“When you’re dating someone, you don’t generally...kiss other people.” Well, he supposed in some relationships you did. But he didn’t really want to confuse her, either. 

 

“So you don’t want me to kiss other people and you don’t want me to sleep here?” Malia asked in confusion.

Stiles exhaled, suddenly feeling a headache coming on. “I’m saying I think it’s best if you and I just be friends,” he told her. “So...that kinda means not sleeping here and uh, not kissing me?” 

“I thought we _were_ friends,” she said, shaking her head. She stood up and shrugged at him. “I’ll just leave, then.”

“Just be careful. We still don’t know who else is on that list, okay?” 

“Lydia is still here, you should figure it out,” she said, like it was the easiest thing in the world.

He rubbed a hand over his face, nodding. “We will.” Not tonight, but they’d figure it out. He believed that. He watched as she headed for the window. 

______

When she got to the bottom of the stairs, Lydia realized that the light in the kitchen was on and that there were noises coming from there. She held her breath and approached it slowly, not sure if this was someone breaking in or just the Sheriff. 

As she stepped up to the door, she let out a breath in relief and was glad to see it was the latter. “I didn’t realize you had come downstairs. Sorry,” she said with a small, tired smile. 

“It’s fine, Lydia,” Sheriff Stilinski told her with a small, tired smile of his own. “Stiles got me started on chamomile tea awhile back, so I thought I’d make some. Interested?” 

“Sure,” she agreed, stepping further into the kitchen and wrapping her arms around herself. “He should really follow his own advice.” With all the adderall he took on top of everything that was always going on with them, he could use something to help calm his nerves every now and then.

His lips twitched upwards as he poured two cups of tea and set the tea kettle down on the stovetop. He carried one over to her and held it out, motioning for her to take a seat at the table. “I wish he would, once in awhile,” he admitted. 

Lydia nodded slightly. For all Stiles tried to take care of all of them, he did a pretty terrible job at taking care of himself. She took the offered seat then looked down at the mug in front of her. “I’m heading home soon, I just want to make sure he doesn’t need help,” she admitted.

“In the middle of the night?” He arched an eyebrow at her and sat down across from her. He took a sip of his own tea. 

“I didn’t actually mean to fall asleep,” she said, a little thrown by the question. She wasn’t used to this kind of questions coming from a parental figure. Mostly they came from Stiles and Scott and she just rolled her eyes at the the two of them. “I have my car,” she added, in case he was worried about _how_ she was going to get home.

“Still. Beacon Hills isn’t the safest place to be out in the middle of the night,” he told her, curling his hands around the mug as he watched her. “Car or not.” 

She nodded a little as she sipped on her own tea, not sure what to say to that. “I think I’ll be okay,” she said, smiling as she pursed her lips together. At least, she wasn’t getting any warnings about her own death for the time being.

Sheriff Stilinski looked toward the clock, grimacing at the glowing red digits that read _3:26_. He shifted his gaze toward the stairs, troubled expression on his face. “How’s he doing, Lydia? For that matter, how are _you_ doing?” 

Lydia glanced over at the clock, too and almost winced. She really didn’t think it was _that_ late. It meant she and Stiles must have slept for a good seven hours or so. Which was definitely a lot more than she’d been sleeping lately. “I think once we get the third part of the list and manage to figure out who is behind it, things will be a lot easier,” she answered even though she knew that wasn’t really what he was asking.

He gave her a knowing look as he nodded slightly, but he didn’t press the issue. Her response told him enough as it was. He sighed and looked into his mug. “I doubt I’ll be much help in cracking a code, but if there’s something I _can_ do…” 

“Thank you, Sheriff,” she said sincerely. She thought about bringing up the thing about his Deputy for a moment but considering he was trying to calm himself down, she decided against it. 

When she heard the stairs cracking, she turned her head and looked up. It could be Malia, but she sincerely doubted the girl would actually take the stairs.

Stiles rubbed a hand over his face as he descended the stairs, only a little surprised to see his dad and Lydia sitting at the kitchen table drinking tea. He lingered in the doorway for a moment, almost awkwardly. “Sorry about that?” 

Lydia focused on him for a moment. She didn’t think the apology was meant for her, she knew Malia well enough to know this wasn’t Stiles’ fault. “Everything okay?” she asked, not wanting to say too much in front of his dad.

It was meant for both of them, really, but he shifted his gaze to look at her. “Yeah, everything’s okay. She went home.” 

“It might be time to start thinking about an alarm system for the windows,” Sheriff Stilinski said wryly. 

Lydia’s eyes widened a little and she looked down uncomfortably. She didn’t know if the Sheriff was aware that Malia had been coming in pretty much apparently every night, and she had kind of assumed he had considering he was _the Sheriff_. But apparently he wasn’t fond of the idea. “I should get home,” she said, standing up and focusing on Stiles.

Wow. Awkward, Stiles thought, grimacing at his dad’s suggestion. “Well there’s…that option? But Scott also uses the window?” He glanced at Lydia, eyebrows furrowing. “Why don’t you just stay? It’s really late.” 

“Scott can use the door, Stiles,” the Sheriff said, then turned to Lydia, not sounding as serious as he had with his son. “I’d be more comfortable if you stayed.” 

Awkward was definitely a word. She looked between the two Stilinski men and pursed her lips together, then nodded. She didn’t really want to stay because, obviously this was a weird situation and Stiles probably had to talk to his dad about Malia. But-- it felt like it was a better option than arguing right then. 

Stiles smiled a little at her and then shifted his gaze to his dad. “Table the rest of this conversation til after school tomorrow?” he asked hopefully. 

The Sheriff nodded as he stood up and took his mug with him. “Go to bed, both of you,” he said, patting Stiles’ shoulder as he walked past him. “And Stiles, for God’s sake just lock that window,” he called as he headed for the stairs.

He grimaced as his dad headed up the steps and presumably back to his room. He pursed his lips and glanced at Lydia with raised eyebrows. “Are you -- okay going back to my room?” he asked uncertainly. 

Lydia hesitated, looking up toward the top floor as she heard the Sheriff walking around. “Are you sure your dad is okay with that?” She respected the Sheriff too much and she didn’t want him to dislike her because she was sleeping in his son’s room like Jackson’s parents had. Of course this was completely platonic but it could still be an even more awkward situation.

Stiles glanced up the steps and then back at her, nodding. “Yeah. He knows we’re just good friends, Lydia. It’s fine. I mean, if you want, you can have the bed and I can pull out my sleeping bag. It’s not a big deal.” 

She wasn’t sure why his words bothered her as much as they did, when she knew they were true. But she had slept better this past few hours than she had since they’d lost Allison. Since Stiles got possessed, really. So she tried to shake whatever that was off and nodded. “Then yeah, that’s fine. And you don’t have to sleep on the floor, Stiles.”

He relaxed and held his hand out to her. “I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” Plus his bed was kind of small. A lot of people wouldn’t be comfortable sleeping in it. 

Lydia took his hand and shrugged a shoulder, watching him closely. “I was fine before,” she said. More than fine, actually. “Were _you_ comfortable?” He’d had plenty of bad experiences with other people in his bed lately, she didn’t want to add to his sleepless nights because he was uncomfortable.

Stiles wasn’t sure why she was looking at him so closely, like she was trying to tell if he was being honest or not, but he cocked his head. “Yeah? Pretty much the best I’ve slept in awhile,” he admitted with a shrug. “Can’t remember the last time I passed out before 8 PM, though.” 

“Yeah, me either,” she said, even though she arched her eyebrows at his admission. She didn’t say anything about it, though. “How did it go with Malia?”

“Surprisingly well?” He scratched the back of his neck with his free hand as he led her up the stairs toward his room again. “I think she was mostly just confused.” Which was sort of her go-to state still. “She seemed okay when she left.” 

And he hadn’t even come close to actually answering her question, so Lydia tried a different tactic. “So you talked to her about coming into your room?” This was obviously something that was bothering his dad, as well. 

“Yeah, I told her that the sleepovers had to stop,” Stiles admitted. He stepped into his room and waited for her to do the same before shutting the door. “And uh...told her I thought it was best if we were just friends. I think that’s what confused her.” 

“You broke up with her?” Lydia asked, sincerely surprised. Yes, she thought it was for the best, but she didn’t really know if Stiles would actually do it. It made her wonder if the Liam thing hadn’t gotten to him more than she realized. But then again, it might just be a snowball effect of everything he’d been putting up with.

Stiles shrugged and moved to sit down in his desk chair, rubbing his hands over his face. “Yeah. I think…everything was just too complicated.” And he doubted it was going to get any better or any easier. “I told her I still wanted to help her with stuff. She didn’t seem to be upset.” Which really wasn’t that surprising to him. 

“I think we would have heard if she was upset,” Lydia said, pursing her lips together as she sat back down on the edge of his bed where she had sat down earlier that day. She had been pretty sure Malia was going to rip her throat out, though so she wasn’t willing to bet that she wasn’t upset.

“I’ll talk to her again at school. Or maybe after school. That’s probably better.” Less chance of her losing control in front of other people. “Yeah, after school is definitely better.” He paused. “Maybe you should take the side closer to the wall, though.” Just in case Malia decided she wanted to talk again and came back through the window. He rose to his feet and moved to the window, shutting and locking it before pulling the blinds and curtains shut. 

Lydia watched him as he closed the window and curtains but she didn’t move at his suggestion. “Are you sure she wouldn’t hurt you, Stiles?” she asked. “Maybe it’d be better if you had Scott come with you.” At least they knew for sure an Alpha as powerful as Scott would be able to control a very pissed off Coyote if he had to.

Stiles glanced at her over his shoulder and nodded. “Yeah. I’m sure. I mean if she was going to, she would have on the full moon.” She’d definitely _wanted_ to, at least on some level. But she hadn’t. He was placing that one in the win column. Besides, Scott had more important things to worry about, like the fact that there was a $25 million price tag on his head. 

She still didn’t feel as comfortable with Malia as Stiles seemed to, well maybe comfortable wasn’t the word, considering. But she didn’t _trust_ Malia not to hurt one of them, but she trusted Stiles’ opinion and instincts. So she got up, walked around the bed and sat down on the other side. “You think you’ll be able to go back to sleep?”

He moved over and sat down in the spot she’d just vacated, yawning. “I feel like I can,” he said uncertainly. Then again, he usually did. He just rarely managed to. “Better set my alarm clock just in case. What time do you need to get up?” he asked, reaching over to his nightstand. 

“Six?” Lydia said, pursing her lips together. “I still need to get home and get ready for school before classes,” she explained. And two hours to get ready were so not going to be enough, but it was almost four anyway, they might as well get a couple more hours of rest while they could. 

Stiles just nodded and set the alarm for six. He still had some homework he needed to do before first period anyway. He’d get up and do that when she went home to get ready for school. 

With a deep breath, Lydia laid back down on his bed, adjusting the pillow under her head then glancing over at him. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked. He had sort of just had his first break up, after all. Although she didn’t think he had fully processed that yet.

He stretched out on the bed next to her, laying his head down on the other pillow and smiling a little. Truthfully he was kind of drained and numb, but it wasn’t worth going into at almost 4 in the morning. “Yeah. I’m all right.”

“Okay,” she smiled softly back at him but let it go. She would ask him again in the morning. 

“Night, Lydia,” he said quietly, letting his eyes drift shut. 

“Night, Stiles,” she answered just as quietly, looking at him for a second before she turned her back to him and sighed deeply. She hadn’t been sure she was actually going to be able to go back to sleep, but she felt herself relaxing almost the instant she closed her eyes.

_____

They hadn’t been asleep for that long when, all of the sudden, Lydia sat up, her eyes wide and she held her breath and covered her mouth not to make any sounds. The dreadful but familiar chill in her spine, tightness in her stomach and anxiety were strong. She knew what it meant. She knew someone was _dying_. 

It took her a second to realize that, somehow, Stiles’ arm was wrapped around her again. But when she did, she turned toward him, wondering if it was too late for her to not wake him.

It was too late. He rubbed at his eyes sleepily, yawning as he peered at her in the darkness of his room. “Lydia?” he mumbled, glancing toward the window instinctively to make sure they didn’t have another unexpected guest. There was no one there. His gaze darted to the clock. It was almost 5. “You okay?” He looked back at her, eyebrows furrowing. 

“I have to get to the school,” she told him, looking at him for just a second before getting up from the bed. She didn’t even know if there was still time. She didn’t think so. There was never enough time. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to try.

That was all it took for him to be wide awake. He quickly reached out and flipped on the lamp by his bed, then rolled off the mattress. “Should I call Scott?” he asked, reaching for his phone and sliding his shoes on.

“Yeah.” He was only a couple of blocks closer to the school than they were, but a few seconds could make all the difference. She pulled her boots on and turned to look at Stiles. “Are you coming?”

“Of course.” He almost sounded offended as he reached over and grabbed his gray hoodie off his desk chair and tugged it on over his head, grabbing his keys off his desk and dialing Scott’s number simultaneously. 

She didn’t look back, knowing he’d be right behind her as she made her way out of the bedroom and down the stairs as quietly as possible. There was no need for them to wake the Sheriff again. If they were too late, they could call whoever was on duty that it wasn’t going to matter anyway.

Seconds later, Stiles heard Scott’s sleepy voice on the other end of the phone line. “Stiles?” There was already worry there. 

“I’m okay,” he said, knowing immediately what his best friend was probably thinking. “But Lydia says there’s trouble at the school. We’re on the way there now.” He pocketed his house keys and followed Lydia out to her car in the driveway. 

Within moments, they were in her car and headed toward the school. Her hands were shaking, like they always did when she was getting warnings, so she gripped the wheel tightly and sat up, focusing on the drive. Luckily, it was close enough and early enough that there shouldn’t be anyone out on the streets.

“Did she say what is happening? Does she know?” Scott asked, already on his feet.

“No. Not yet. But I’m guessing it has to do with the lists.” 

“Okay. I’ll meet you guys there, I’m heading out now,” Scott promised.

“All right. Be careful. See you soon.”

Stiles ended the call with Scott, glancing at Lydia sideways and reaching out to rest a hand on her arm, squeezing gently as he looked out the windshield, heart beating more quickly than usual. He wondered briefly if he should also alert Kira to what was going on, just in case they needed more backup. 

Lydia didn’t look at him, she just kept her eyes on the road, trying her hardest to focus. She should have asked him to drive, but they were almost there already. It would be faster for her to just be careful the rest of the way. “Is he coming?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah. He’ll meet us there,” he assured her, nodding. “He’s probably almost there already.” 

“I don’t know where he should be looking,” she admitted, rubbing her face with one hand before gripping the steering wheel tightly again. “I just woke up thinking of the front of the school, with the buses and the parking lot. But I don’t know if it was inside or up front.”

Stiles drew in a breath and looked out the windshield. “Okay. Whichever it is, we’ll figure it out when we get there.” He just hoped it wasn’t going to be too late for whoever was in trouble. 

With a deep sigh, she nodded, stepping down on the pedal and picking up a little more speed. She didn’t want to put them in danger, but they were almost there now and she was sure there wasn’t going to be anyone driving in or out of the school right then. Not unless they were the person they were looking for. 

But just as Lydia was about to turn into the school parking lot, another car came speeding out. She almost didn’t have time to swerve to stop the car from going right up against them and hitting them full on. As she turned and slammed on the breaks, she nearly hit the wall on the other side of the parking lot entrance and she had to swerve the car back, barely missing the other car again as it sped right past them.

“Holy _shit,_ ” he muttered, reaching out and holding onto the dashboard, eyes wide as her car skidded to a stop. He whipped around in his seat, looking out the window and then reaching for the car door handle, scrambling out of the car to try and get a look at the other car’s make and model, but it was too dark to make out. His heart raced in his chest. “You okay?” He ducked back down, peering back into the car to check on Lydia. 

She didn’t answer, she reached for the door and stepped out of the car, she was shaking more now, both from the adrenaline and from her powers. Her eyes were wide and she swallowed hard as she stared ahead, her car’s headlights illuminating the blonde on the ground just a few feet ahead of them. “We’re too late,” she said quietly.

Stiles’ chest tightened at her words and he followed her gaze to the dead body a few feet away, a puddle of blood beneath the unfamiliar young woman. She was missing her left hand. Her eyes were open and vacant. He shut his eyes, rubbing a hand over his face and blowing out a breath. “I’ll call it in,” he said just as quietly.

With a slight nod, Lydia started toward the body. There was definitely blood, but not as much as it should have been considering her missing hand. And a lot of it seemed to be coming from her neck. “Stiles,” she called, turning around to face him. “I think they had her in the car.”

Stiles had already pulled his phone from his pocket but at her words, he hesitantly moved a little closer to get a better look, holding his breath. “She’s been stabbed with something.” He knelt down but didn’t touch the girl. He snapped a couple pictures of the wounds and one of her face, too, biting down hard on his lip before rising to his feet. “I think you’re right.” 

“I don’t think she’s been gone long,” Lydia said quietly. The blood was still flowing from her. Which meant they could have been on time, if they had been just a little faster. “Do you recognize her?”

“No. I’ve never seen her before,” he told her, hearing Scott’s bike roar as he pulled up. 

“Are we too late?” Scott asked as he removed his helmet and rushed toward the two of them. Pausing when he saw the girl on the ground.

“Yeah,” Lydia answered, sighing softly as she turned her attention toward him. “Stiles already called it in.”

Stiles exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck as he turned to face the two of them. “We should probably get gone before the cops get here,” he said reluctantly. “My dad’ll give us any information we need to figure things out.” He reached out and laid a hand on Lydia’s arm. 

Considering what Deputy Parrish had said to her last time he found her at a crime scene, Lydia nodded her agreement, then paused as she turned to Stiles. “Do you wanna take the jeep since we’re already here?” she asked. 

He shook his head. “No, I’ll just get it later.” Right now he didn’t really want to leave her side. He glanced at Scott and then back at Lydia. “Is your mom home?” 

Scott looked between the two in confusion but didn’t say anything. 

“She should be?” Lydia said, a little confused herself. “Why?”

“I just thought maybe...we’d come with you?” He bit his lower lip and shrugged. “You know, if she wasn’t home.” But she was home, and he doubted her mom would appreciate two guys showing up this early in the morning. 

“You can come if you want to, Stiles, but you don’t have to,” she said quietly, glancing at Scott. While part of her was afraid that if he didn’t come they’d somehow go back to how they’d been in the past couple of months, part of her also knew he should get a little rest while he could. 

“Guys, what else is going on?” Scott asked.

Stiles frowned at her response and then glanced at his best friend when he spoke up. “I just think right now sticking in groups is the best plan,” he admitted. 

“Yeah, I agree,” Scott said. “And that includes you, Stiles. Even if you’re not on the list.”

Lydia rubbed a hand over her face and nodded a little. She wasn’t going to argue with that, partially because she didn’t really want to take her car home. “Can you drive?” she asked Stiles. She suddenly felt like all the rest she had gotten the previous night had suddenly drained from her body. 

He definitely wasn’t on the list, unless the list had been compiled while he was possessed. Which was possible, he supposed. But he nodded at Scott’s words and then met Lydia’s eyes. “Yeah, sure.” He heard sirens in the distance and he quickly held his hand out for her keys. 

“I’ll meet you guys there,” Scott said, rushing over to his bike. 

Lydia handed the keys over and started around the car and into the passenger’s seat. She knew technically the near miss hadn’t been her fault, but she was too shaken up to be comfortable with driving anywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a while, guys! We've made some good progress on the next chapters lately so hopefully updates will happen more often. :)


	6. Chapter 6

Stiles sat at one of the picnic tables set up in the quad, papers and photographs spread out around him as he studied the pieces of evidence he had. He chewed on a pencap as he worked, occasionally checking something on the sheriff’s station’s database on his laptop. He looked over to where Lydia sat, staring at a blank notepad in front of her, pencil poised in her hand. 

He reached out and picked up his bottle of Mountain Dew, taking a long drink and setting it back down again, fidgeting in his seat and letting his gaze wander around to the other students and faculty that were milling about. Then he let his eyes drop to the photograph on his phone, the one he’d taken of the girl’s wounds this morning. He let out a breath, raking a hand through his hair. 

“What am I missing,” he mumbled. 

“Other than the fact that Mountain Dew is actually pretty terrible for you?” Lydia asked, sighing softly as she dropped her pencil over her notepad and turned her attention toward his computer. “Let me see.”

“Yeah, well, it helps keep me focused.” His Adderall prescription needed to be refilled. He was going to have to do that after school. He shifted the computer screen around so she could see it better. 

“What are you looking at, exactly? We know the hand came off with the same thermowire that was used on Demarco,” Lydia told him, looking up when Scott and Kira joined them at the table.

“Yeah, but these marks...these are different. They weren’t found on Demarco,” he told her, pointing to the stab wounds surrounded by an eight sided figure around each one. “So they cut her hand off with that thermowire, but I think this is what actually killed her.” 

Kira winced as her gaze flickered to the screen. “Poor girl,” she whispered as she sat down beside Lydia. 

Lydia nodded at Kira then turned her attention back to the computer. “It almost looks like there was something around the blade. But it doesn’t look like anything that would add too much pressure or have suction. It’s not bruised, just marked,” she said, looking up at Stiles again. 

“Your dad hasn’t figured it out, Stiles?” Scott asked.

“No. They’re still trying to figure out,” Stiles told them, letting out a breath and letting his gaze drop back to the list of names and figures. “It looks familiar I just can’t place it.” 

“I’m sure if it was a commonly used weapon, one of the officers or one of us would have figured it out.” She turned her attention to Kira. “You’re the Katana master, does this blade look familiar to you?” 

Kira smiled a little at Lydia then turned to the computer and shook her head. “It’s too small to be any kind of sword. And I’m not _that_ familiar with other kinds.” 

Stiles nodded his agreement with Lydia’s statement and chewed on his pencap again, drumming his fingers on his notebook as he stared at the picture. He knew he’d seen that imprint _somewhere_ before. But _where?_ He felt like tearing his hair out and he’d been staring at the images on his phone since first period.

“We’ll figure it out, alright?” Scott said, laying his gear over the table. “You should go change for practice, coach is gonna be pissed if we’re late.” 

Stiles glanced over at him and started to nod when his gaze landed on Scott’s lacrosse stick, eyes zeroing in on the bottom of it. His hand shot out and he grabbed it, pulling off the rubber end and then looking up wide-eyed. He held his breath as he looked from the imprint around the stab wound in the photo to the stick. “The killer’s on the team,” he whispered. 

Kira’s eyes widened. “What?” 

“It’s the same shape,” Lydia said, looking from the stick to the photos on the computer. “They are using a Lacrosse stick as a weapon,” she added, eyes wide as she looked between Kira and Scott. 

“How do we figure out who it is?” Scott asked the two of them.

Stiles drew in a breath and started to answer when Malia dropped down in the seat beside him. “Who who is?” she asked, looking around at the group. 

“The killer,” Kira told her. “Whoever it is, is on the lacrosse team.” And they had practice in less than thirty minutes.

Stiles shifted slightly in his seat, looking perturbed. “We need to get practice canceled.” 

“So you finally figured something out? Who is it?” Malia asked. 

Lydia’s eyes narrowed at her as she glanced at Malia around Stiles. “We know he’s on the team, but we don’t know who it is _yet_. Although,” Lydia said, turning her attention to the rest of the group. “If they used the thermowire on the girl and on Demarco, this has to be the same person, or same people. And they have to have been at the party, too. Considering they were all freshmen, who are the freshmen on the team?” she asked. 

“Hm, Liam. And Garrett?” Kira said, looking at Scott for confirmation.

“We can rule out Liam,” Scott said with a nod, glancing at her and then at the gruesome photograph on Stiles’ laptop screen. 

“Garrett’s a smartass little prick,” Stiles mumbled. “It probably _is_ him.” 

“He _was_ at the party, I remember seeing him briefly,” Lydia said with a nod. “He and Liam are kinda friends, right? Or know each other? He might have a better idea.”

“Let’s go talk to him,” Malia said, standing up. 

Stiles tried to ignore the twinge of bitterness he suddenly felt at her immediate decision to go talk to Liam, but his expression didn’t change. He also didn’t look up from his notebook. 

“He’s sitting with his friend Mason,” Kira told them, nodding over across the way to where Liam was looking over toward them. Undoubtedly listening. 

“I’ll go talk to Liam,” Scott said, looking at Stiles. “I don’t know if we should cancel practice, though. Don’t we want to act normal to see if it really is him?”

“Okay, do I need to remind you that you and Kira are both _on_ the supernatural hit list? And that if we’re all on the field, he could make some kind of move on either of you pretty easily?” Stiles’ voice was sharper than he meant for it to be, shoulders tense. 

“I agree,” Lydia said, shaking her head. “I think it’s too risky. We need to figure out what he’s up to first. And then ask Stiles’ dad to come after him instead of putting one of you guys in danger,” she added. “He might not be the only one, either. I’m pretty sure I saw two people in the car this morning when they almost hit us.” 

“Great, so who’s the other person then? Are they on the team, too?” Malia asked, sounding frustrated. 

“I don’t know,” she said, looking up at Scott. “I know this is a long shot but maybe see if you can pick up another scent on Garrett?” 

“Partner in crime,” Stiles murmured, nodding and looking at his best friend. “Best friend maybe? Girlfriend?” He glanced at Lydia and arched his eyebrows. 

“I’ll see what I can figure out,” Scott assured them with a nod. 

“Be careful,” Stiles warned.

“I’ll come with you,” Kira said, smiling a little at the other three then standing up and following Scott to talk to Liam first. 

“What should we do about practice?” Lydia asked Stiles. 

“Just take him out if he does anything during it,” Malia said with a shrug. 

Stiles forced himself to take a deep breath. “I don’t think killing a guy in the middle of lacrosse practice in front of a lot of witnesses is a great solution.” 

“We’re not taking anyone out,” Lydia said, annoyed. Times like this made it hard for her to forget Malia was very much Peter Hale’s daughter. She focused on Stiles instead, before she said something else. “Maybe Scott has a point, but if we’re going through with the practice, we should have your dad here, on standby.” 

He wasn’t exactly against taking out an assassin who was clearly more than willing to violently murder innocent people, including people he loved. But making a public spectacle of it was pretty much the last thing any of them needed. He rubbed a hand over his face, still not loving the idea of going through with practice at all right now.

“I can call him but I don’t know if he’ll be able to make it considering the murder this morning. Not without drawing suspicion.” He let out a breath, picking up his phone.

“Well, see what he says. Worst case scenario I’ll come up with an emergency and we can get all four of you off of the field,” she told him. It wouldn’t be the first time she pulled one of Coach’s player off the field. Even if with Jackson, he rarely let her do that because obviously there was nothing more important to him than Lacrosse.

Nodding, Stiles hit the contact card for his dad on his phone and waited, leg bouncing anxiously beneath the table. 

“I still don’t have anything new to tell you, Stiles,” the Sheriff answered a moment later.

He grimaced. “No, but I have stuff to tell you,” he informed him.

“Give me a second,” he said, going silent for a moment before he entered his office and closed the door. “What is it?”

“We’re pretty sure that at least one of the killers is on the lacrosse team,” he said, lowering his voice. 

“Do you know _who_ specifically?” he asked.

“We have a pretty credible suspect?” Stiles responded, arching his eyebrows. 

“I know you know that that is not enough information for me to arrest a high school kid, Stiles. What kind of information do you have?” he asked impatiently. 

Stiles made a face. “I know. I wasn’t asking you to arrest him. But he was at the last crime scene. And I’m pretty sure we figured out what the murder weapon was. If you pull off the bottom of a lacrosse stick, the shape matches the marks on the body from this morning.” 

“So we need to find the kid who has the lacrosse stick with the knives inside,” the Sheriff sighed, nodding. “You have practice about to start?” 

“We’ve narrowed the suspect list down to one. His name’s Garrett. He’s a freshman.” He let out a breath. “And yeah. Twenty minutes. Any chance the sheriff is available for chaperoning practice?” he joked.

“I’ll get out of here as soon as I can.” He paused. “And Stiles? I don’t want _any_ of you kids to do _anything_ about this, do you hear me? Just act normal, go to practice, be _careful_ , but you’re not going after this boy yourself.” 

“Hey. I am a fragile human being and I don’t even have my baseball bat with me,” Stiles replied innocently. There was a moment of silence on the other end. “We won’t, Dad. I promise.” 

“I’ll be there soon,” he said before hanging up.

“He’s coming,” he told Lydia and Malia, looking between them and then over to where Scott and Kira had pulled Liam off to the side and were talking with him quietly. 

“Let’s start over there, then,” Lydia said, focusing on Stiles as she spoke. “But maybe you should wait for Scott to go into the locker room, just in case.”

He wanted to argue that he wasn’t even on the list, but he kind of figured maybe it was best he and Scott stick close together, and to Liam, for that matter, until they caught this particular assassin. “Yeah, probably.” Stiles rose to his feet and started gathering his things, sliding his laptop into his bookbag and putting away all the papers and things, as well. 

_____

Practice had ended up being completely uneventful. Lydia had sat with the Sheriff during the entire time and they had spent watching the boys and Kira, both watching the game closely and tensing every time Garrett went anywhere near one of them. Once the game ended, however, the Sheriff told them he had to get back and asked them to keep an eye on things and call them if something else happened. 

Lydia actually waited outside the locker room until Garrett left, she didn’t feel anything off and she didn’t hear anything other than the usual teasing going on inside, so once he was gone, she turned around and headed for the parking lot. There were some things she wanted to do today that she didn’t want to involve the rest of the pack in, even if it was unavoidable that they were going to find out about it eventually. She didn’t need them trying to stop her from going, and she certainly wasn’t ready to share everything she and Stiles had found out about her family with the others. Not until she knew more. 

So she was going to see Peter on her own. 

It wasn’t that he’d wanted something to go wrong during practice. He definitely didn’t want Scott or Liam or Kira to end up hurt. But the fact that they hadn’t been able to catch Garrett in the act only made Stiles more tense than he already had been. He showered quickly and changed into his regular clothes once more before making his way out into the hallway. He didn’t see Lydia and worry spiked through him. He made his way out of the building and toward the parking lot just in time to see her getting into her car. 

What the hell was she doing? 

He waved a hand at her as he jogged to catch up, frowning deeply. 

When she saw Stiles waving at her and moving his long limbs toward her in his own version of running, she knew she should have left earlier. All in all, he wasn’t the worst person to come along with her, but she knew Stiles of all people wasn’t going to like her plan. He didn’t even know she had gone to Peter for help while he was dealing with the Nogitsune. And yes, the previous time she had backup but she knew she could handle him on her own. 

She sighed softly and waited for him to catch up with her. There was a chance she could leave on her own still. But it was very slim and pretty much non-existent. 

Stiles made his way to her car and arched his eyebrows. “Where you off to?” 

“Leaving?” she tried. Obviously that wasn’t going to work. 

“And going home where you won’t be alone while there are still assassins running around and we don’t know who all of them are?” 

Lydia gave him a look and leaned back against her seat, rubbing her temple as she eyed him for a moment. “Eventually.” 

He gave her a look right back, nodding and moving around to the passenger seat of her car, climbing in. “So, where are we heading?” he asked casually.

“I thought you were gonna talk to Malia today after school,” she said, arching her eyebrows and although she started the engine, she didn’t pull out of the parking spot. 

“She took off before I had a chance,” he told her.

Lydia suspected as much. Malia hadn’t been around since the game ended and she hadn’t even sat with her and the Sheriff. Which Lydia was okay with. Stiles was the one who had to talk to her, after all. And of course that meant Stiles was free now. With another sigh, she pulled out of the parking spot and waited until they were out of the parking lot completely to say something again. “We’re going to the loft.” 

Stiles leaned back in the seat and pulled his seatbelt across his chest, hooking it into place and then pausing at her comment. “To see Derek?” he asked. Then his eyes narrowed. “To see Peter.” 

“He’s probably going to be the only person who can actually give me answers.” Lydia kept her voice as nonchalant as possible, but it still came slightly defensive. She didn’t like Peter anymore than the rest of them. In fact, she probably had more reasons to dislike him than they had. But Peter had answers she _needed_. Before someone else died.

Now he was _extra_ glad he’d come out to the parking lot when he had. He trusted Peter Hale exactly zero amounts, for a hell of a lot of reasons. And he especially didn’t trust the guy around Scott or Lydia. He took note of the hint of defensiveness in her voice and looked out the windshield. “Then I guess we should get going.” 

She wasn’t sure if having Stiles around was going to work to her advantage or against her. But if he was coming with her anyway, she might get his opinion on what she wasn’t sure about. “Do you think I should ask him about my grandma? Or will that just be giving him too much information he might not even have?” She glanced over at Stiles then focused on the road ahead. 

Stiles pursed his lips, thinking that over. “I don’t think it’s a great idea to give Peter any information he might not already have,” he admitted. Considering Peter’s tendency to use that kind of stuff to his own advantage.

“That’s what I’m thinking,” she agreed. “I’ll just remind him his name is probably on the portion of the list we _haven’t_ cracked yet and if he wants his money back, he has to help me figure out how to tap into my powers to crack it,” she added with a shrug. 

That idea made him a little uneasy and he glanced at her sideways. “Not that I generally mind pushing the line when it comes to pissing off Peter, but he did just literally rip a guy’s heart out of his chest not that long ago.” 

Lydia rolled her eyes at that. This was why when it came to Peter, she prefered dealing with him on her own. “He’s not going to hurt me, Stiles.” She was sure of it. 

“Well I’m glad that one of us is certain about that, because I’m definitely not.” 

“I’m not sure he wouldn’t hurt _you_ , which is why I was going by myself,” she told him. She knew if she pushed Peter hard enough, he wouldn’t hesitate before slicing her throat open. But if she knew her limits, she knew she was safe. She could be useful for him in ways no one else could. 

Stiles was silent for a moment. “I may get on his nerves,” he told her. Mostly because he tended to get on _everyone’s_ nerves. “But I’m pretty sure he doesn’t actually hate me or anything.” He shrugged and looked out the window.

“Stiles? You get on everyone’s nerves,” she said with a shake of her head. “Just be quiet and try not to piss him off. I would like to _actually_ get the answers I’m going there for. And it doesn’t matter if you’re his favorite person, if you piss him off enough he _will_ hurt you.” He had killed his own niece. Yes, for power and there wasn’t much Stiles could offer him in that department, but that still applied.

“Yes, I’m aware of that. Thank you,” he said wryly as she voiced his thoughts. “Believe it or not, I’ve dealt with him successfully a few times without dying, even when he was at his craziest.” 

“Really? Oddly enough, I have some experience with that _myself_.” Lydia threw Stiles a look. He really didn’t even know the whole story about the time Peter spent in her head. And he wasn’t going to, no one needed to know about that. 

He frowned at the look. “Lydia, I know. I just -- I really need you to be careful, okay?” His voice dropped and he glanced away. 

“I’ll be fine, Stiles. Just let me do the talking. I really want us to get out of there with more answers than we have right now,” she said, this time, her voice softer than before. She could have told him she’d done this before. Twice. But she didn’t want him to feel even more guilty than he already did about-- the whole thing with the Nogitsune.

Stiles pursed his lips. “Got it. I’ll keep my mouth shut.” Unless Peter crossed a line of some kind anyway. And then all bets were off. 

Lydia nodded a little and took a deep breath as they approached the loft. She parked up front and glanced at Stiles then stepped out of the car. She just hoped Peter was actually there. They had wasted enough time as it was.

Stiles tucked his hands into his hoodie pockets as he followed her out of the car and up to the building. He couldn’t actually even remember the last time he’d been in the same room with Peter. Before he’d been possessed, for sure. He let out a breath as they rode the elevator up to Derek’s loft. As much as they needed answers, he was a little nervous about trying to get those answers from Peter. And as weird as it was, he kind of hoped Derek was there to intervene if the situation called for it. 

Once they were by the door, Lydia glanced over at Stiles and there was a familiarity about being here now, searching for answers that made it impossible for her not to remember the last time she’d been there with her best friend. But she shook it off. She had to be completely focused if she was going to deal with Peter. 

She knocked on the door and waited for a few seconds before she pushed it open. Surely they had already smelled them and heard them coming anyway. And they didn’t have time to waste. 

“Here to sell Girl Scout Cookies?” Peter asked with a smirk as they stepped inside. He didn’t look up from the book that he was reading on the sofa. 

Stiles rolled his eyes. 

Lydia smiled at him and made her way further into the loft. “For someone with a price tag on his head, you sure look relaxed.” Might as well get down to business. 

“Whatever the price on my head, I’m willing to bet that it’s not as high as the price that’s on yours,” he returned.

“Well, at least if someone comes after me, I’ll be able to _feel_ it before they actually get to me.” Yeah, because that had worked out so well for them in the past. “And we don’t know your price yet, so I wouldn’t count on it, anyway.”

Peter smirked, cocking his head and setting his book down. “Would you be able to prevent it though?” he asked idly. “Your own death?” 

“ _That_ I can’t predict just yet,” she said dismissively, still smiling as she waved a hand and stepped closer to him. “Of course, the better control I have over my powers, the more likely I am to predict _your_ death on time.”

“Ah.” He gave her a knowing look. “Well, it has been awhile since you last landed on my door for assistance, hasn’t it?” Peter rose to his feet. 

Of course he was going to bring it up. She didn’t look at Stiles at the mention of last time she was there. Better to just focus on Peter for now and catch him up later. It wasn’t like Stiles didn’t know the reason why Peter knew about Malia being his daughter, after all. “Assistance? I would call both last time and this time a mutually beneficial meeting.” 

Stiles let his gaze slid from Peter to Lydia and back again, though he did remain silent. 

“I suppose it was,” Peter agreed, amusement glinting in his eyes as he nodded. “And what is it you’re looking for now, Lydia? More information on...banshees, perhaps?” 

“Anything that might help me give you the head’s up before someone chops your head off,” she said with a bright smile. 

“Oh, I’m _quite_ touched by your concern for me.” 

“I knew you’d be,” she grinned, shrugging a shoulder before growing serious. “So what can you tell me?” 

He smirked at her. “What is it, specifically, that you want to know?” He paused. “Why you’ve had such a hard time with the voices the last couple of months even though they’re getting louder?” 

“ _Louder_ just gives me a headache,” she said, eyes narrowing at the smugness on his face. She really hated Peter. Having to put up with him better be worth it. “I need _clearer_ and screaming doesn’t always help. I need to know how to _trigger_ it and find answers when I need them, not when it’s already too late.”

He sighed, giving her an expectant look. “Really. I’m surprised you haven’t managed to figure this out for yourself. People who are touched by the supernatural have a need to be connected to that which...isn’t, necessarily.” His gaze flickered to Stiles briefly before returning to Lydia’s face. “Sometimes it’s an emotion. Anger. Hatred. Something strong. But sometimes it’s something or...some _one_ else.” 

“Like an anchor,” Stiles spoke up, pursing his lips.

Lydia glanced over at Stiles, she held her breath at what she _thought_ Peter was implying. But she didn’t think it was true. If she had an anchor, if _Stiles_ was her anchor, wouldn’t she have been able to crack the code already? She was just reading too much into it. She turned her attention back to Peter and shook her head. “A reverse anchor, someone, or _something_ that helps me activate my powers rather than hold them back?”

He arched an eyebrow at the doubt in her voice. “Yes,” he answered. “I’m sure you’ve seen what can happen when a banshee _doesn’t_ have an anchor and the voices are quite persistent.” 

She’d seen it. She’d seen what happened to her grandmother. What probably happened to Meredith. She’d seen what happened to Allison and Aiden and so many other people because she hadn’t been able to _understand_ the voices. She was _tired_ of watching it happen and feeling like she had her hands tied. 

Lydia glanced at Stiles out of the corner of her eyes as she tried to push away all of what she was feeling, then turned to focus on Peter again. “How do I find my anchor?”

Peter sighed again and looked upwards as if he couldn’t believe she was actually asking. “Look inside your heart. Meditate.” He pinned her with a meaningful look. “Figure it out.”

Sighing, Lydia rolled her eyes and rubbed her temple. She didn’t have _time_ to meditate, look inside her _heart_ , whatever the hell that meant. More people were going to die and it was all on _her_ and her inability to figure things out. “Anything else you can tell me?”

Stiles reached out and rested a hand on the small of her back, getting irritated with Peter’s condescending tone. 

“For a genius, your powers of _sight_ could use some work,” Peter responded mildly. 

“ _Thanks_ , Peter. I’ll be sure to give you a call if my _heart_ tells me you’re going to die,” she told him, narrowing her eyes. She knew there was _something_ that he was telling her without really telling her. Something that in his own stupid way, he knew was going to help her, but she didn’t want to have more puzzles to put together, more answers to search for. Just for once, she wanted something to be _easy_. 

“Come on,” Stiles murmured, turning his attention away from Peter. “Let’s just go. If he loses his head over his lack of helpfulness then he’ll have no one to blame but himself.” 

Lydia let Stiles lead her back toward the door, she glanced at Peter one more time and the very smug smirk was back on his face. All she could do was shake her head and walk away. If he wasn’t concerned about his own safety, then there wasn’t much she could do to get answers out of him. 

_____

 

Stiles sat in the passenger seat of Lydia’s car a few minutes later. He was still tense, because apparently being around Peter Hale just had that kind of effect on him. Then again, he was the guy who’d turned his best friend into a werewolf and nearly killed Lydia. He blew out a breath as they sat in silence. 

“So now what?” he asked quietly. 

“Do you want me to drop you off at school so you can get the jeep?” Lydia asked quietly, eyes a little unfocused as she stared at the steering wheel. She wasn’t actually expecting Stiles to leave her alone. But she was still trying to figure out what the hell she was missing from her conversation with Peter.

He rubbed the back of his hand over his forehead. He probably _should_ get his jeep from school and not leave it sitting in the school parking lot for a second night. He let out a breath. “Yeah, probably.” 

Lydia nodded slightly then took a deep breath and started the car. She had basically spent the last twenty-four hours with Stiles. Not to mention the previous weekend. And so much had happened in those past few days, more than in the two months since-- since they’d lost Allison combined. She was exhausted again, but sleeping and resting and shutting her brain down wasn’t an option. Not when the last time she fell asleep, someone else died and she was too late to save them. _Again_.

“What happened this morning.” He gazed out the windshield, but his words were quiet, sincere. “I know you feel like that’s your fault. But it isn’t.” Stiles paused, chewing his lower lip. “We’re gonna figure out who this Benefactor is and we’re gonna nail their ass to the wall.” 

“If I could just-- _figure this out_ , Stiles, we would be able to protect people like her, before this Benefactor had the chance to do anymore damage.” So yes, it was her fault. Maybe indirectly, but it was still her fault. 

He shifted in the seat, turning his body so he was facing her. “Lydia, listen to me. We’re all doing the best that we can, including you. I know you are.” He reached out and laid his hand on her shoulder. “That’s all we can do. Our best.” 

“That’s obviously not good enough. People are still _dying_ , Stiles.” It wasn’t something minor, like someone losing a game, or a fight breaking out somewhere. There was just no way around _death_. Lydia sighed in frustration and shook her head. “I just have to try harder.”

There was never a way around death. He’d actually looked into it. He also knew the feeling of other people’s lives being your responsibility. Exhaling, he squeezed her shoulder before letting his hand drop away, wishing he had answers to give her.


End file.
